


When I Fall...

by BlackWolf105



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mostly Fluff, Root is a Carter, Root is deaf in one ear, Shaw is trying, Shaw's mom tried so hard and got so far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 19:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17855981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWolf105/pseuds/BlackWolf105
Summary: Root and the Carters - along with some friends - visit New York for the summer, where they happen to be staying next door to Shaw.***Root is obsessed, Shaw gets frustrated frequently, Shaw's mother tries, and everyone else is just confused





	1. Chapter 1

“Root!” _Thud_.

Root’s eyes flew open as a weight landed directly on top of her, her breath disappearing from her lungs under it.

Managing to lift her head, she spotted her sister, Joss, lying horizontally across her stomach where she fell, apparently thinking that the most efficient way to wake Root up was by jumping on her – which worked well when they were kids and weighed roughly the same amount, but despite being the same age as the other woman, Root probably weighed about thirty pounds less.

(It’s not her fault that she thinks exercise is stupid, it’s just that she would much rather fight with computers than with people.)

“What the _hell_ Joss? Give a girl a little warning, why don’t you.” Joss merely grinned up at her, her one arm propping her head up, the other flopping off the bed.

Even at eighteen, Joss still acted like she did when she was twelve.

With a huff, she rolled over onto her back, now trapping Root’s legs to the mattress, but allowing her enough room to sit up.

“You’re sleeping _forever_.” The way Joss said it you’d have thought Root had been asleep for days, not mere hours. “And Mom wanted me to wake you up so that we could check to make sure everything’s packed.”

“Mom checked to make sure everything was packed last night. What, does she think that someone broke in and unpacked everything while we were sleeping?” Joss laughed.

“I don’t know, she just said to wake you up. Come on, aren’t you excited to see Dad?” Root rolled her eyes.

Of course she was. Even though she knew that the Carters weren’t technically her _real_ parents, in a biological sense, they had adopted her when she was only eight, making them – for all intents and purposes – her parents, and after her Dad had moved to New York six months ago for a job, she missed him as much as Joss.

“Of _course_ , I’m excited. I missed having someone to make fun of you with.” Joss’ mouth dropped open in mock indignation, and she sat up, slapping Root’s shoulder as she stood.

“Excuse you, _no one_ can make fun of me, I’m perfect.” As if to demonstrate, she spun in a circle, arms outstretched, as she made her way to the door. Root just snorted, causing the other woman to roll her eyes. “Anyway, come on, get dressed and come downstairs. The boys are going to be here soon, and Mom wants to leave in twenty.”

Root glanced at her alarm clock, the red digits blinking lazily at her. _8:32_.

“So, in other words, we’ll be leaving at noon, right?”

Joss’ laughter followed her out the door, and Root shook her head smiling as it shut. As much as Root loved her mother, punctuality was never one of her strong suits.

Throwing the covers from her body, she stood, stretching slightly as she did.

Root was looking forward to the summer. Her senior year of high school had just ended, meaning that this was the last summer before she went off to Columbia, Joss to Stanford, and their friends – John and Harold – went off on their own adventures.  

Thinking about it made Root a little sad. Ever since Root had been adopted by the Carters ten years ago, she, Joss, John and Harold had been practically inseparable. They’d been through everything together; the death of John’s father, Harold’s accident three years ago that left him with a permanent limp, Root’s which took her hearing in her right ear, birthdays, Christmases, _everything_. And now they were moving on and moving away.

But that wasn’t for another three months. Root shook her head, dispelling the sad thoughts from her mind as she grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from her drawer, a smile replacing her small frown as she thought about all the fun (and trouble) they were going to get into in New York.

***

“How much longer is it?” Root leaned forward in her seat, her head popping between Joss’ and their mothers as she tried to escape… whatever was happening in the back seat.

“Come on Root, it’s not that bad back here.” Root twisted around, glaring at John as she did.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cuz you _want_ to be… experiencing everything that’s happening. _I_ don’t.” At that, she shot another disgusted look at Harold, who at least had the decency to look away.

Harold had _technically_ been Root’s friend first; they had run into each other in their middle school’s computer lab in the eighth grade. After figuring out that they were both into coding (and, more importantly, that they were both _good_ at it) it became impossible to separate them with anything short of a nuclear explosion.

But when they started high school, Harold had become increasing interested in John – and John became increasingly interested in Harold. For about two years, the two boys had moped around, staring longingly at one another from the room, or across the table, or hell from two feet apart, until eventually Joss and Root had had enough, and decided it was time to straighten the boys out.

Well, not _straighten_ exactly, just… sort them out.

So after a painstaking two months, a figurative closet, a _literal_ closet, and about two thousand _not_ subtle clues, the two boys had realized their mutual feelings and gotten together.

And Root couldn’t be happier for her friends; except when they were all trapped in a car for twenty six hours, and the boys couldn’t stop making googly eyes at one another.

Well, John was making googly eyes. Harold was trying to explain computer stuff to John, but somehow _everything_ Harold said came out sounding sexual. Root was sure that Harold didn’t mean for that happen – the man was more modest than a nun – but she had no doubt that she was _not_ the only one who was hearing the innuendos.

“Well if you don’t want to hear, maybe you can switch places with Harold at the next stop,” John oh so helpfully pitched in, “then we’d be sitting on your right, and you wouldn’t be able to hear us anyway.”

Root rolled her eyes. “Maybe that would work if we were in a crowed place, or anywhere _but_ a car, where the structure is meant to amplify sound for the acoustics.” John just stared blankly at her until she clarified, “Basically, it doesn’t matter where I sit, I’ll be able to hear you no matter what.”

“Maybe you should wear earplugs.”

Before Root could respond, Mrs. Carter interrupted with a laugh, “Well, it doesn’t matter where people sit, or who does or does not wear earplugs, because we’re here.”

Immediately, everyone in the car fell silent as the kids realized that the city skyline was only a bridge away.

“Whoah…” Root felt her jaw drop slightly as she realized just how _big_ the city was. She knew it was going to be bigger than Bishop – hell, literally _anything_ is bigger than Bishop – but the sheer magnitude of the buildings took her breath away.

For the next twenty or so minutes, the car was silent as everyone was occupied with taking in the sights of the city that surrounded them.

Root watched as the cars blared their horns, the traffic moving inches at a time, and as people scurried like ants from one place to another, never looking at anything but the space directly in front of them.

Bishop was a small town, one where everyone knew everyone else, where you couldn’t take three steps without someone stopping you about something, where people meandered from place to place, never hurrying because there was never really anywhere to go.

But here? Here there was so much more.

Root was so caught up in staring – in studying, in _learning_ – that she didn’t realize the car had stopped and everyone was getting out until suddenly a hand knocked on the glass in front of her face. Jumping a bit, Root looked up into her sister’s face.

Shaking her head briefly, Root grasped the handle and pushed open the door.

Immediately, thousands of sounds assaulted her all at one – car horns, people talking, yelling, tires squealing. It made her head spin.

Grabbing onto the car with one hand, she used her free hand to cover her good ear, and nearly as soon as she did, she felt as another set of hands grip her arm.

Glancing up, she saw Mrs. Carter looking concerned as she slowly guided Root off of the sidewalk and into the building they had stopped in front of.

“Root? Root, sweetie are you okay?” With another shake of her head, Root slowly dropped the hand covering her ear. She felt Harold, John and Joss all surround her; all looks of concern and comforting hands. Giving her mother a shaky smile, she nodded.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah I’m good.” She let out a laugh, “It was just… a lot.”

Mrs. Carter nodded, still looking worried, “Alright, well John, Harold and I are gonna go get the rest of the bags. Joss, why don’t you call your father, and you and Root can wait here for him? I’ll bet he can’t wait to see you two again.” Joss nodded.

“Sure.” She shot Root a grin, who felt a jolt of excitement at the prospect of seeing her dad again, and secretly glad to be remaining indoors.

While Root would normally be annoyed at being treated differently for her disability, the city was a bit more overwhelming than she had thought it would be, and she was glad for a small reprieve to try and get used to it again.

Plus, this gave Root more opportunity to people watch, which – as she watched a young woman slide into the apartment complex lobby between John and the doorframe – was suddenly very interesting.

The woman was small, probably no more than five foot three and no older than Root herself, her dark hair pulled back into a pony tail that rested over her left shoulder. She was dressed in all black, and while it wasn’t as hot as Texas outside, it was warm enough for Root to wonder how the woman wasn’t dying it in. Especially since it was all long sleeved shirts and jeans, complete with a leather jacket.

As though sensing eyes on her, the woman suddenly turned, meeting Root’s eyes, and Root felt her breath escape.

If she had thought the woman was gorgeous before, her eyes made her breathtaking. They were black, deep and hypnotic – just staring at them made the rest of the world fall away; the sounds which seconds before seemed far too loud, now sounded as though they were reaching her ear from a thousand miles away, nothing more than a minor buzz, and the colors from around the room seemed to fade, everything disappearing into the murky depths.

The woman’s eyes looked her up and down for a moment, before she scowled and turned away, breaking the moment.

“Hey, Root?” Root blinked, shaking her head yet again, and turning to face Joss, who was staring at her with a strange expression. “Are you okay? You kind of zoned out there for a while.”

“Uh, yeah.” Her eyes drifted back to the woman, who was now disappearing up the stairs to the apartments.

_So she lives here too. Interesting…_

“Root?” Another jolt back to reality as she felt Joss lay a hand on her arm. “You _sure_ you’re good? You just zoned out again.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Root smiled at her sister, “Just… got distracted.” Joss nodded slowly, like she wasn’t really sure she believed what Root was saying.

“Right.”

***

“So then John decided that he wanted to give it try. Unfortunately, he weighs, like, eight times what Root does, so the branch broke, and he fell like ten feet.” Mr. Carter let out a laugh as Joss continued regaling him with stories of their adventures over the past four months.

The whole group was settled in Mr. Carter’s small living room, their luggage settled in the spare bedroom room that would soon become Joss and Root’s. Harold was seated in chair, John on the floor in front of him, Joss was seated beside John, her feet stretched out under the coffee table, and Root was settled on the couch with Mr. Carter to her left.

Looking around, Root realized just how much she’d missed her father, how much his disappearance had affected her small family.

“Well, that is _quite_ a story Joss.” Root blinked, she’d been so caught up in her head that she’d missed the end of Joss’ story (not that she really needed to hear it, she’d been there after all).

“What have you been up to Mr. Carter?” Harold asked polity from his seat.

“One, I’ve told you a million times, Harold, to call me Don.” Root let out a laugh as Harold smiled shyly at Mr. Carter, “And second, honestly Harold, I’ve been so busy with work, I haven’t gotten in _nearly_ as much trouble as I used to. Which,” He turned to the kids, “is something I’m hoping we can remedy this summer.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Mrs. Carter leaned over and gently hit her husband’s arm, “I have enough trouble dealing with these four, I don’t need to deal with you _five_.”

At that the whole room burst into laughter.

After a few moments, it died down, and Mrs. Carter faced her husband.

“But seriously, Don, I’m glad that you’re doing well here. The apartment is great.” Mr. Carter nodded.

“It really is quite nice. And the neighbors are pretty good too. Speaking of, I invited my neighbor over, she should be here in a couple of minutes” He turned back to his ragtag group of children – some of whom he wasn’t really sure _how_ he’d obtained, “She has a daughter who’s about your age, said she’d bring her over.”

“Anything to outnumber the boys.” Root watched as Joss’ eyes lit up at the thought of another girl in their group.

Root’s mind wandered back to the woman she’d seen in the lobby earlier that afternoon. She’d looked about their age…

 _Wouldn’t that be a coincidence_.


	2. Chapter 2

Shaw thumbed her music off, the soothing tones of Metallica cutting off abruptly as she pulled her earbuds out and threw her phone… somewhere… as she collapsed onto her bed, sweat drying to her skin as she caught her breath, her heavy bag still swinging slowly in the corner of the room.

She _really_ hated  having to deal with people, and once again wondered exactly _what_ her mother was thinking, making her go over to the neighbor’s apartment.

_Where the hell does she think we live? Mayberry? This is New York fucking City, you don’t go around inviting your neighbors over; you ignore them and hope you never talk._

Maybe she could get out of it, pretend she’d sick, or climb out her window.

Yeah, climb out the window. That sounds good.

Unfortunately, as soon as she rolled to her feet, there came a knock at her door.

Her mother didn’t even bother to wait for an answer before pushing it quietly open, “Sam, are you ready to head over?”

Shaw ignored her mother, groaning internally as she realized her plan of escape was nullified.

As she reached for her shirt, still laying on the floor where she’d thrown it when she’d pulled it off, she felt her mother’s eyes surveying her, and Sameen grit her teeth as she felt the waves of disappoint (at least she _assumed_ that’s what it was, it was the same feeling that she felt whenever she got suspended from school or referred to a different therapist) roll over her.

She could practically hear her mother’s voice in her head _‘really Sameen? I ask you for one thing, and you can’t even do that right?’_

Pulling her shirt on, she reached down and unwrapped her hands, smirking internally as she felt her mother growing more and more frustrated as she took nearly ten minutes of ear crushing silence to painstakingly roll her wraps neatly, and place them beside her boxing gloves.

When she’d finished, she faced her mother, who was by now leaning against the door frame, jaw tense and eyes hard as she didn’t even bother to _try_ and conceal her annoyance and frustration.

“We’re going to be late.” The tone of her mother’s voice was probably meant to make feel Sameen feel… something… but it didn’t work, just like every other time her mother tried that trick.

“You could have gone without me.”

“If I’d done that, you never would have showed up.” Shaw didn’t bother to answer that; they both knew it was true.

Instead she leaned over and grabbed her leather jacket, picking her phone up off the floor as she made her way to the door, pushing past her mother, muttering as she did.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

She was fairly certain her mother heard her, but neither one of them acknowledged it.

Shaw stood silently by the door, a case of soda from her mother shoved into her hand, while she grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter.

Moments later, her mother was knocking on their neighbor’s door, which flew open in seconds.

“Ana! I’m so glad you came over, I can’t wait to introduce you to my wife, Courtney, and the kids.” The man in the doorway stepped forward, pulling her mother into a hug.

Shaw didn’t know much about their neighbor (as it should be in New York), but what she did know was that he was some overly friendly guy from Texas who had somehow managed to befriend, like, half the building without _someone_ trying to shoot him – it was probably a good thing her mother didn’t let Sameen near _actual_ weapons, otherwise she might have been the one to do it.

Oh, and his name was Carter.

“Well, thank you for inviting us over, Don.” Sameen watched as the man’s eyes flickered past her mother, landing on her. She felt her mother’s hand fall on her shoulder, probably to keep her from leaving, “This is my daughter, Sameen.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sameen.” He stepped forward, arms outstretched, as though for a hug or handshake. Either way, Sameen felt herself jerk backwards with a glare as the man moved closer.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” She moved out of her mother’s grasp, ignoring the look of surprise, confusion, and maybe hurt that crossed the man’s expression.

She also ignored the look of disappointment and frustration (a look that Shaw was _very_ familiar with, considering she was on the receiving end of it about a hundred times a day) her mother shot in her direction.

The three stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, before Carter shook it off, once again smiling at her mother as he motioned for them to enter the apartment.

“Well, come on in, everyone’s real excited to meet you two.”

***

Shaw was pretty sure she had never been so uncomfortable in her life.

After ushering her and her mother into the apartment, everything was a flurry of names – most of which she had already forgotten – and introductions. Now the three adults were sitting on the couch, while the kids all sat on the chairs and floor.

Well, the Carter kids were (which Shaw had a whole _bunch_ of questions about, considering the Carters were _black_ and only one of the four kids in the room was as well. Not to mention Sameen thought that the two boys might be dating), Shaw was standing about five feet away, close to the window and as far away from everyone else as she could be.

To make matters worse, the creepy woman she’d caught staring at her early that day was apparently one of the many Carter children.

The adults were talking about… something,  Shaw didn’t really know or particularly care to find out. The kids were listening intently, occasionally talking amongst themselves, which was more often than not accompanied with furtive glances her way.

With a sigh, Shaw dug her hands farther into her jacket pockets, tuning out the conversation in the background and turning her head towards the window, watching the thousands of people scurrying unhindered about their lives, wishing she were one of them.

“…Sameen?” Hearing her name, she turned back to the group, who were all staring at her with varying levels of confusion (the Carters) and annoyed disappointment (her mother).

“What?” Her voice was neutral, cold almost, and Shaw watched with disinterest as her mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath at the tone.

“Um,” Mrs. Carter seemed a little shocked by the coldness in her voice, before seeming to recover, “We were just talking about colleges, and I know your mother said you were going into your senior year, so I was wondering if you’d thought much about your plans after high school.”

“Not really.” Mrs. Carter blinked slightly at the bluntness in her tone, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before simply nodding.

Her mother shot her a look before speaking, “I keep telling her to start making plans. She’s really quite intelligent, top of her class.”

“Really?” Mr. Carter looked impressed, “Well do you have any idea what kind of career you want to pursue?

Shaw simply shrugged, taking a sip from the soda can in her hand.

“Right…”

An awkward silence fell over the group again.

Again her mother broke the silence, looking towards the other kids in the room, “Well what about you four? What are you guys planning?”

Shaw once again blocked the voices, choosing instead to stare blankly out the window.

Suddenly, she felt her phone buzz from inside her jacket pocket.

Pulling it from her pocket, she briefly glanced at the caller ID ( _Person I Don’t Hate_ ) before answering.

“What?”

“ _Is that any way to greet a friend?_ ”

“We’re not friends.”

“ _Okay, fine. Is that anyway to greet the one person that can stand you who you can stand as well?_ ”

“What the hell do you want, Cole?” Shaw _really_ didn’t like playing games. Luckily, Cole knew that.

“ _You busy right now?”_ She glanced back at the group, who were all engaged with one another, no one but her mother even noticing she was on the phone.

“No.”

“ _Cool, ‘cuz I’m bored outta my ass right now, and could really use something to spice up my night._ ”

“What are you feeling?” She could _feel_ her mother’s stare burning into the back of her head.

“ _I don’t know. Wanna come over? My mom’s out, so we can play video games, maybe break into the liquor cabinet. I just got Manhunt for my Xbox, and I know that there’s a half empty bottle of scotch my mom won’t miss._ ”

“Give me fifteen. I’ll be there.” She hung up without waiting for a reply.

Quickly finishing her drink, she threw it in the bucket labeled recycling, before grabbing her house keys from the counter where she threw them when she entered the apartment.

“Where are you going, Sameen?” She turned around at her mother’s voice to find that everyone in the room was watching her.

“Out.”

“Excuse me?” Shaw rolled her eyes, frustration taking hold of her normally neutral expression before she had a chance to repress it at her mother tone.

“Cole called. He’s bored, and so am I.” She watched with vague interest as her mother’s jaw tightened – Shaw liked to play the game of _How Long Will it Take to Give Her an Aneurism_ – her eyes closing for a moment before reopening.

“Sameen,” her mother’s voice was starting to take the tone it usually did after dealing with Shaw for more than fifteen minutes – a mix of annoyance, disappointment, and frustration all rolled into one, “you can hang out with Cole some other time, right now, we’re spending time with our neighbors and…”

Sameen’s phone buzzed again, this time with a text.

_‘Mom and Dad won’t be back for a week._

_You wanna stop and get some snacks on your way?’_

Her mother’s voice a distant buzzing in her ears, she shoved her phone back into her pocket, already mapping out the fastest route to Cole’s from the convenience store. “I won’t be back till tomorrow. Don’t wait up.”

With that, she pushed the door open, letting it click shut behind her.

***

Root watched as Mrs. Shaw’s face twisted in disbelief as Sameen left, interrupting her mid-sentence.

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as they all stared after the woman. Root was stunned; Sameen had blatantly ignored and disrespected, not just her own mother, but the Carters as well.

After a moment, Mrs. Shaw let out a semi-stunned breath, shaking her head and turning back to her hosts.

“I am _so_ sorry about her. I don’t-” She cut herself off, still to frustrated to form a coherent sentence.

“It’s fine, really.” Mrs. Carter put a hand on her arm, recognizing the frustration and embarrassment the other woman was feeling.

“No, it’s not.” Mrs. Shaw shook her head, “Sameen has no manners whatsoever.”

“Well, she seems like an… _intense_ young woman.” Root winced slightly; you didn’t have to be genius to know that Mr. Carter was fishing for something vaguely nice to say.

Mrs. Shaw shook her head again. “You don’t have to sugar coat it.”

Mr. Carter nodded semi-uncomfortably, and Root watched as a mixture of sympathy and discomfort passed over his face.

Another few moments of silence passed before Joss decided she’d had enough.

“So Mrs. Shaw, you want to hear the story of how John and Root ended up being friends?”

***

“Well that was an… interesting night.” Root glanced over to the other side of the bed, where Joss was climbing settling down.

Root nodded thoughtfully, “The Shaws seem nice.”

Joss snorted, “Well _Mrs._ Shaw seems nice. Her daughter on the other hand…” she let her voice trail off but Root understood what Joss was getting at. “Anyway, night, Root.”

Root stared up at the ceiling as she listened to Joss’ breathing deepen and the other girl fell into sleep.

Joss was right, Mrs. Shaw _did_ seem nice, and while she could admit that there was something intriguing about the other girl –and perhaps that she _did_ feel an initial attraction; she was, after all, partially deaf, not blind – she couldn’t deny that there was something… off about Sameen, something that made her sort of uncomfortable.

Maybe it was the fact that the other girl seemed completely closed off. Being partially deaf, Root had, in recent years, become rather adept that reading body language and facial expressions – a talent which often came in handy around her friends, who all tended to be loud and rather rambunctious at the best of times – and she often prided herself on being able to read new people.

Sameen however, was a complete mystery to Root.

Since the moment she walked through the door, Root had been watching Sameen from the corner of her eye; at first because she was simply amazed at her luck ( _the woman from the lobby_ was _the girl next door_ , when Root first saw her, she couldn’t help but hope that it would be just like one of the romcoms that John made her watch with him), but even after a couple of minutes, Root could tell that was definitely _not_ going to happen.

Root had stood up, introducing herself and holding out her hand, but instead of taking it and reciprocating, the other girl had simply stared at Root for a long moment, her eyes blank and face neutral, not speaking or making any movement, until her mother had nudged her rather forcefully in the arm. Then, with a glare in her mother direction, Sameen had ground out her name as though it were being dragged from her lips by a pair of pliers.

 And that was the extent of their interactions.

While Root and the others had sat around the coffee table, laughing and sharing stories, Sameen had sulked in the corner, staring out the window as though she was wishing she were anywhere _but_ there. Several times, Root, and others, had tried to drag Sameen into the conversation, but each and every time, she simply responded with monosyllabic words or gestures.

The only time throughout the whole night that Root had seen anything resembling an expression on Sameen’s face, was right before she left.

After she’d hung up the phone – Root was pretty sure she didn’t even _try_ to hide the fact that she took a phone call in the middle of the conversation, not that she was really a part of the conversation – and was trying to make her escape, while her mother was trying to make her stay, Root had watched as Sameen seemed to become frustrated or annoyed with her mother, anger flashing across her features before she’d looked back down at her phone and it was replaced with the neutral boredom.

Root wasn’t used to not being able to decipher things – whether they be people, puzzles, or programs, Root _hated_ when she couldn’t figure something out.

So as she lay there in the dark, listening to Joss breathing deeply beside to her, Root resolved that by the end of the summer, she would have Sameen Shaw figured out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of violence and some blood as well as descriptions of hospitals.

Shaw sighed, kicking off her shoes as she collapsed onto her bed, shoulders protesting as she stretched her arms above her head, arching her back.

She hadn’t been this sore after a sparring match in a while; Cole must have been improving faster than she thought.

Relaxing into the covers, Shaw allowed her eyes to drift shut as she lay back.

It had been a long week to say the least, starting with meeting the new neighbors, and ending here, with Shaw having spent nearly every night at Cole’s while his parents were away.

After the third night, her mom stopped texting her, wondering where she was or when (or _if_ ) she was coming home.

It wasn’t that Shaw didn’t… care, about her mother. She did (at least, she thought that, _maybe_ , she did), but ever since Shaw’s dad died nearly seven years ago, things had been… strained between the two of them, what between the therapy, the arguing, and her mother’s complete inability to accept Shaw for who she was.

Needless to say, Shaw was more than ready to get out that small apartment.

Maybe she’d get a dog…

A sudden, and not quiet, knocking on the door tore Shaw from her thoughts, and forcing her back into reality.

Groaning, she pushed herself up. “What?”

The door opened, her mother sticking her head through.

“Mr. Carter stopped by, he’s taking the kids out for a day, and since I’ll be working, he wanted to know if you would like to join them.”

Shaw just blinked at her mother before flopping back down onto the mattress.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.” She heard her mother’s exasperated sigh from across the room; she didn’t say anything else, but Shaw could feel the weight of the disappointment.

“I just think Sameen, that maybe-”

“I said, no.” Shaw didn’t even bother to sit up as she cut her mother off, not really caring about what the woman had to say.

Shaw didn’t flinch as the door to her room shut, probably a little louder than her mother meant it to.

***

For about a week, Root’s daily routine was fairly basic: get up, eat breakfast with her family before Mr. Carter went off to work, and then spend the rest of the day teasing John and Harold, causing mayhem, and exploring the city.

She would occasionally see Mrs. Shaw around the building, and they would smile at one another and talk briefly whenever they did, and she often came over to the Carter’s during the evening, but she didn’t bring Sameen back after that first night, so Root had yet to see her again, which – judging from the rest of her family’s reaction to the young woman – was a loss only in her own mind.

Root had kind of accepted the fact that she would probably spend the rest of the summer living next door to the intriguing woman, but would never actually see her again. Almost as though she were some Spector, lurking just beyond Root’s view.

It was Saturday evening however, when that all changed.

Mr. and Mrs. Carter had gone out for the evening with Mrs. Shaw, leaving the kids alone, although in separate apartments.

(When Mr. Carter had mentioned to her as they were leaving, that Sameen was welcome to join Root, John, Harold, and Joss in his apartment, Mrs. Shaw had simply sighed and shook her head, stating that Sameen already had plans and probably wouldn’t be around).

The overall atmosphere was pleasant, with quiet jokes floating through the air as they teased and tormented one another, as the girls painted one another’s nails (after having failed at convincing John to let them paint his), Harold tried to instill a love of classical music onto the rest of the room, and John tried to believably pretend that he was enjoying it.

Root smiled to herself as she listened to her friends – her _family_.

She didn’t remember much about her life before the Carters, she was so young when her mother died, and then foster care was fairly unmemorable, but what she did remember wasn’t… bad per say, but not necessarily good either.

She remembered that it was quiet a lot, her father having disappeared one day when she was five, and her mother drinking herself into oblivion every day since.

She remembered how strange the silence was, how it seemed to seep into every room, every crack, every inch of that old run down shack her mother called a home. She remembered how lonely it got, having nothing and no one around to talk to, even at the age of six.

But mostly she remembered how happy she was when she moved in with the Carters; with their house always full of noise and people – the noise of the TV, of cooking, and people laughing, crying, _living_.

Looking at the far wall of the kitchen, the one that connected the Carter’s apartment to the Shaw’s, she briefly wondered how Sameen stood it; the silence, the loneliness. She didn’t know much about the other girl, or her family, but she knew that Sameen was home alone more often than not; her mother worked nearly all day, and when she wasn’t working, she was usually at the Carters, and Root didn’t know _anything_ about Sameen’s father, other than that he wasn’t in the picture.

Out in the hallway, if she turned her head just right, Root could hear faint footsteps walking down the hall, and absently wondered if it was the Sameen, home early from wherever she had been. She heard a door bang open in the hall- Root thought it was odd that she didn’t hear it close, but perhaps whoever it was closed the door much more gently than they opened it -  and then silence.

Silence that it, until the sound of something slamming into the wall.

Root jumped, a part of her glad that she was holding a closed bottle of nail polish, rather than an open one, as it tumbled form her hands onto the floor.

Joss looked just as startled as Root felt, and a quick glace towards the kitchen (and the wall that something hit) showed that the boys were equally as surprised.

Before long, something else hit the wall, followed by a series of smaller but equally as loud crashes, causing everyone to jump once again. Everyone sat still for a moment, staring at one another – unsure of what to do – before, just as another particularly _loud_ crash echoed through the wall, Root shot to her feet, moving towards the door and out into the hall.

The front door of the Shaw’s apartment was still open when Root cautiously approached. She could feel the Joss, John and Harold only steps behind her as she knocked lightly on the frame.

Peering into the open doorway, Root wasn’t sure what to expect – something having fallen over, broken furniture maybe – but nothing looked out of the ordinary. In fact, it looked just like a normal, if minimally decorated, living room.

“Sameen?” Root called out, cautiously stepped into the open door,  ignoring the whispered _what are you doing, Root?!_ from Joss behind her. “Are you okay?”

Another series of crashes answered her.

After a moment – and a loud bang that sounded like a door hitting a wall – a figure appeared from the back hallway and stepped into the living room.

Root looked at Sameen as she entered. At a quick glance, it appeared as though everything was fine. She looked calm, her face and eyes neutral as she approached, but Root could see that her jaw was tense, indicated that something was indeed wrong. Not to mention that she had the sleeve of her jacket pulled down over her left hand, which Root thought seemed odd. She glared at Root and the others.

“What are you doing here?” Root refused to flinch as Sameen’s icy tone washed over her.

“I heard a crash from next door, thought I’d check and make sure it wasn’t a robbery or anything.” Sameen continued to glare.

“Well, it’s not. So thanks for stopping by, you can let yourself out.” Root felt Joss and the others hesitate for a second before moving to do what the woman had asked. Root on the other hand, remained where she was.

“It sounded like something heavy fell over,” Root could practically _see_ the stunned and confused expressions on her friends faces as she heard them pause at the door, clearly wondering what the _hell_ she was doing, “do you want some help cleaning up, or picking stuff up or-”

The other woman glared even harder at Root, as though trying to make her go away. “No.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I may not look super strong, but I can definitely help with-”

“I said, no.”

Root felt Joss grab onto her arm, trying to pull her backwards.

“Come on, Root. She said she doesn’t need your help, and we have to go finish dinner.”

“I’ll be over in a few minutes, guys.” She turned, flashing a smile to her sister as she gently shook her arm out of Joss’ grip. “But first, I’m gonna help Sameen here.”

“No, no you won’t.” Root turned back to the other woman, meeting her eyes for a moment before letting her gaze drop down to the cuff of Sameen’s sweatshirt wrapped around her hand, which was slowly soaking up the blood she was surely trying to hide.

Root watched as Sameen’s gaze dropped as well, following her line of sight, and when she saw what Root had noticed, her scowl deepened.

“Yes, yes I will.” If Root thought Sameen’s other glares were scary, then this one was a phaser set to _kill_. Root stared back, not flinching, until eventually Sameen looked away, essentially forfeiting.

With a smile, Root turned back to Joss and the others, who were all watching the exchange with varying degrees of shock, apprehension, confusion, and fear.

“Give me, like, twenty minutes.” With that, she ushered them out the door, before closing it softly behind them.

Turning around, she found Sameen still glaring at her back; she had the distinct impression that Sameen was probably wishing for a real phaser right now, or maybe some photon torpedoes (she also had a feeling that Sameen probably doesn’t watch _Star Trek_ and so would have no idea what she was talking about).

After another staring contest – Root was beginning to feel like she was being stared down by a wolf, like Sameen was trying to assert her dominance. Unfortunately for her, Root was _very_ good at being dominant, and after a couple of minutes, Sameen let out a huff before storming back down the hallway without a word.

Apparently she had accepted that Root was going nowhere, and so had decided to ignore her presence all together.

Making her way across the room towards where Sameen disappeared, Root took some time to really look around the apartment.

The walls were nearly bear, holding only three photographs – a wedding photo of a Mrs. Shaw and a man Root had never seen, presumably Sameen’s father, another of the man, this time of him in what appeared to be some sort of military uniform, and finally one of him, Mrs. Shaw, and what appeared to be an eight or nine year old Sameen.

Other than that, the room looked more like something out of a catalog than it did a real room that someone lived in, the only thing out of place a key ring holding two keys lying haphazardly on the side table.

At the Carters, there was always something lying around – school papers laying on the tables or floor, backpacks and coats thrown on the furniture, electronics spread all over hell and back.

Here, the tables were bear, the furniture looked unused, and there was no sign – other than the photographs – that anyone under the age of eighteen lived there. There was no real evidence, that _anyone_ lived there.

Root glanced down the hallway, wondering where exactly Sameen had disappeared to, and, seeing that a single door at the end of the hall was cracked open, she made her way over to it.

Pushing it open, she felt her mouth drop open slightly as she took in the scene in front of her.

_Well, at least I know what that crashing sound was._

The room in front of her looked as though someone had taken a bulldozer to it. There were shards of broken glass covering the floor, from what Root couldn’t tell, and judging from the scatter pattern of books, papers, a computer (Root couldn’t stop herself from wincing when she saw that), and a desk lamp, everything from the desk had been violently shoved off of it. The bed’s spring box and mattress were lying on the floor, having been kicked or shoved from the frame.

But really caught Root’s attention was the standing mirror in the corner of the room that looked as though it had been punched several times, knocking out pieces of the glass, which lay in shards on the floor, some covered or splattered with blood.

Root heard a door behind her open, and managed move far enough out of the doorway that Sameen didn’t shove her into the frame as she pushed past with only a glare.

“So, Sameen. Care to tell me what your furniture did to piss you off? Or were you just redecorating? Because as much as I appreciate a home job, it’s probably better to leave the demolition to the professionals.” Sameen shot her another glare, but didn’t respond, she simply bend down and started to gather her books and papers from the floor.

Root noticed that she’d wrapped a bandage around her hand.

***

Shaw didn’t respond to the girl, knowing that if she opened her mouth she’d probably wind up saying something that normal people would regret, and she waited for Root (which, by the way, is a stupid ass name) to either make another joke and _really_ piss Shaw off, or to give up and walk away.

Instead, Shaw tensed when Root, without another word, knelt down beside her and started to gather up the pieces of broken glass that used to be statue.

For a moment, Shaw froze, uncomfortable with Root’s close proximity, but after a moment, when it was clear that the other woman was simply cleaning and wasn’t trying to interact with her, Shaw felt herself relax slightly.

Together, the two girls worked in silence, slowly restoring the room to some semblance of neat, allowing Shaw time to try and calm down before she broke something else – like Root.

She wasn’t even sure what made her so mad to begin with her and Cole had been spending the day together, and she had planned on staying the night at his place. Everything had been going fine, just like it usually did; they were playing video games, eating takeout, and generally fucking around. Then Cole’s parents had come home, something neither of them were expecting, and to say that Cole’s parents didn’t like Shaw would be an understatement.

To say that his parents _hated_ Shaw would be an understatement.

Just because Cole got suspended _one_ time – okay, maybe it was more like four - because of her, his parents thought that she was some kind of terrible influence on him (which, if she was being honest, they were probably right). Not to mention she was Persian, not Catholic, and, according to them, a psychopath – not that they were entirely off base. 

Needless to say, when they arrived home to find Cole wrestling Shaw in the living room (she’d beat him for the fourth consecutive time at _Call of Duty_ and he was determined to beat her at something), a fight had ensued, which ended in Shaw practically getting thrown out of the house by Cole’s dad.

And she _knew_ that she shouldn’t have trashed her room, but Cole’s parents  were the literal worst to her. Every time she’s around, she’s subjected to some kind of bullshit, whether it be racist comments, religious propaganda or just plain _bullshit,_ and a girl can only take so much of that before she wants to murder someone.

And usually, that kind of crap would annoy Shaw, but she could keep herself from full on murdering someone, but she was already annoyed from a minor fight her and her mother had had that morning about Shaw’s refusal to interact with the neighbors, despite the Carter’s best attempts – which, thankfully, had been dwindling as days passed and Shaw made no attempt to accept their offers. So when Mrs. Cole had started on about Jesus and how he would be angry at Cole for befriending a filthy immigrant like her, she kind of lost it, angrily spitting a few choice words at the adults, both in English and in Farsi.

Cole’s mother acted as though Shaw was placing a curse on her, crossing herself as she back away, while his father grabbed her arm, allowing her to almost break his wrist, before forcibly shoving her from the apartment.  So when she’d gotten home, fury bubbling beneath her skin, she wanted nothing more than to hit something. Hard.

So she did, punching the first thing that caught her eye when she stormed into her room., which unfortunately for her hand, was her mirror. After that, she’d just seen red as she proceeded to break, throw or punch anything that moved, wanting to see it fall and break, _needing_ to find some sort of release-

Shaw jerked _hard_ as she felt a hand wrap gently around her own, whipping around, arm tensed and ready to throw a punch.

She froze, her entire body becoming stone, when she found herself looking into Root’s eyes, her own cold hard stare met with a warm concerned gaze.

Root held her gaze for a moment, before gently reaching out with her other hand and prying Shaw’s fingers from the piece of broken mirror she hadn’t realized she was holding in her bandaged hand.

Pain shot through her palm as the glass was gently peeled away from the broken skin, having cut through the fabric and once more through her flesh. She winced, seeing her blood spread across the jagged edges of the shard forming a nearly clear handprint, and she absently wondered how long she’d been gripping it before Root pulled it away.

Without a word, Root turned her full attention to Shaw’s hand, pulling away the now useless and blood soaked bandage. Shaw watched as she winced slightly, taking in the deep gash that cut through the center of Shaw’s palm and across her fingers.

The cuts must have been at least half an inch deep in places, blood quickly welling where Root tried to wipe it up. After a couple of moment she gave up, instead pulling Shaw to her feet by her wrist and leading her wordlessly towards the bathroom, where, with a glance at Shaw, she grabbed a hand towel, pressing it to her palm.

“Come on.” Root grabbed her wrist again, but this time Shaw didn’t let her lead her away.

“Where are we going?”

Root shot her a disbelieving look, “The hospital. Those cuts are bad Sameen; you’re gonna need stitches, and as far as I know, neither one of us has the medical knowledge to do that here, hence, come on.”

“It’s just a cut, it’ll stop bleeding in a couple of minutes.” Root gave the towel a rather meaningful look; it was already growing heavy with blood, and it had only been on her hand for a few moments.

With a single raised eyebrow, Root grabbed her wrist again, and this time Shaw allowed her to pull her towards the door, stopping briefly so that Shaw could grab her keys from where she’d thrown them when she got home.

Once they were out in the hallway, Shaw paused.

“Exactly how do you plan on getting to the hospital again? Our parents left, meaning they took the cars, and the nearest hospital is like, fifteen blocks away.”

Root gave her a sly smile as she opened the door to her own apartment.

“Who said anything about cars?” Shaw frowned as Root walked into the apartment, unsure of exactly what Root was talking about. Were they gonna take a taxi or something?

Shaw may not have the best grasp of emotions, but something told her a taxi driver would not take too kindly to a teenager bleeding all over the back of his cab.

***

Joss looked up from where she was folding napkins as the front door to the apartment opened, glancing at her watch as she set the table.

It had only been about fifteen minutes since Root had decided to stay at Short-Dark-and-Objectively-Attractive’ s place instead of helping out with dinner.

“Hey Joss, do you think Dad would mind if I borrowed his bike?” Joss frowned, looking up at Root for the first time since the door opened – perplexed by the strange question – and nearly dropped the plate she was holding.

Root’s hands were smeared with something that Joss had the uncomfortable impression was blood, and her shirt looked as though Root had used it as a rag.

“Root, what the hell happened?” She started to rush over, placing the plate as gently as she could in her hurried state; she heard Harold let out a gasp as he too seemed to notice the blood for the first time, John just pushed himself away from the counter, his face the epitome of concern.

Root however, simply waved off her friends concern, glancing down at herself as she did. “Don’t worry; it’s not mine. I still need to borrow the bike though.”

“Root, that’s an awful lot of blood for it not to be yours,” Harold spoke up as he quickly limped over.

“Yeah, there was a bit of an accident involving some pieces of glass. Speaking of,” she turned to Joss, “do you know if Mom and Dad have any towels or something like that they wouldn’t mind getting bloody?” She nodded her head towards the door, where for the first time since Root came in, the group noticed Sameen Shaw standing, rather uncomfortably, a towel wrapped around her hand, and blood running slowly down her wrist.

“Uh, yeah.” Joss hurried over to the cabinet where her dad kept a first aid kit and, reaching in, pulled out a thick towel that was so ratty her dad decided it was only useful for mopping up blood – which it appeared like it was going to be used for.

“Thanks.” Taking it from Joss, she turned and threw it at Sameen, who caught it in her not hemorrhaging hand, before turning back to Joss. “So the bike?”

Joss nodded mutely.

“Great.” Root grabbed the keys and helmets from their place by the door before grabbing her jacket. “If we’re not back by the time Mom and Dad get home, tell them I’m at the hospital, okay?”

With that, Root spun on her heel, grabbing onto Sameen’s arm and pulling her down the hallway as the door shut behind them.

***

Sitting in the waiting room of the ER, Root couldn’t help but stare at the woman seated next to her. For someone who just sliced their hand open with a piece of broken mirror, she was unusually calm, her expression never changing as she slowly bled out onto the hospital floor.

“Shaw? Sameen Shaw?” The two girls looked up simultaneously to see the doctor walking over to them.

He took one look at Sameen’s hand – still wrapped in the towel that Joss had given her, which had started off as a light blue color, but now looked more purple than anything else – and ushered them into a room.

Root wasn’t sure exactly how much blood Sameen had lost in the last twenty minutes, but the evidence claimed _a lot_.

He quickly removed the towel from her hand, wincing slightly when he saw the damage, asking Sameen a bunch of inane questions like _does it hurt?_ and _has it been bleeding like this since the injury?_ , _what happened?_ , _you cut your hand like_ this _by picking up broken glass?_ and so on, before getting to the important questions.

“Can you move your fingers for me?” Root watched as Shaw curled her hand into a loose fist, the doctor nodding as though pleased. “Good, I just needed to check and make sure you didn’t cut any tendons.” He jotted something onto his clipboard, before handing Sameen back the towel and moving towards the door. “You are going to need stitches, so hold that to the wound till I get back.”

After a few more minutes – Root was starting to get pretty annoyed with how inefficient this hospital was – the doctor returned with a suturing kit, gaze, and disinfectant.

Taken Shaw’s hand, he flipping it so that it was palm up. “This is gonna sting a little bit, alright?”

Shaw nodded, and Root watched with barely concealed interest and admiration as the only indication Sameen actually felt the pain was a slight tightening of the jaw.

After cleaning the injury, the doctor proceeded to put in the stitches – approximately fifteen across the palm and then a couple in each finger, adding up to about thirty in total.

Throughout the entire process, Sameen barely flinched, her jaw tightening occasionally, but Root could see no other sign that she was in pain.

Eventually, the doctor finished putting in the stitches, and wrapped Sameen’s hand in gauze, giving her care instructions before sending them on their way.

As they walked back out to the parking lot Root glanced up at the sky; it was already getting dark when they had first driven to the hospital, so after the hour they spend inside, it was clearly night by the time they made their way to the bike.

Glancing at her phone, Root saw it was after nine in the evening, and she briefly wondered if her parents were home yet; judging from the lack of missed phone calls, she assumed they weren’t. She could hear Sameen’s stomach growling as they walked in silence.

Clearing her throat, Root looked over at the other girl. “Do you want to head back to the apartment?” Sameen shot her a strange look.

“What else would we do?”

Root shrugged, “We could grab dinner. I didn’t eat anything, and I’m going to assume that you didn’t either.” Sameen looked away at Root’s words, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I know you guys were planning like some family thing.” Root waited for the other girl to look at her before smiling and shrugging once again.

“Yeah well, keeping you from bleeding to death is more important than food.”

Sameen scoffed. “One, I wasn’t going to bleed to death; I cut my hand on glass, I didn’t get shot in the gut. And two, _nothing_ is more important than food.”

 _Except maybe you_.

Root kept that thought to herself as she handed Sameen the spare helmet and climbed onto the bike, feeling Sameen climb on behind her, and hesitantly place her arms around Root’s waist.

She twisted around, smiling at Sameen through their helmets. “So you’re the one that lives around here, any good places to eat? My treat.”

She watched as Sameen shrugged slightly, a frown forming on her face as she considered her options. Eventually, she gave Root the name of a twenty four hour diner not far from their apartment complex.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, what do you think?” Shaw looked up from her book, and across the room to where Root was holding up her hands, her nails painted black.

Shaw blinked, then shrugged. “I think that you _always_ paint your nails black.”

“Yes,” Root sighed, standing up and throwing herself across Shaw’s bed, narrowly missing her feet as Shaw quickly pulled them back, “but this is particular black has glitter in it, rather than my usual mat.”

She held her hands again for Shaw to look, and this time Shaw could see the small gleam of the glitter as it caught what little light was coming from the lamp beside her bed.

She nodded, not really sure what Root wanted from her.

She also really wasn’t one hundred percent sure _what_ Root was doing in her room; Shaw had been reading in her room when she’d heard a knock on the door, and when she’d answered it – figuring it would be some poor soul who’d gotten the apartment number wrong – she’d been sort of surprised to find the Root on the other side, smiling and basically shoving past Shaw.

Shaw also wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t shoved Root out the apartment, or why she was allowing her to sit in her room, much less lie on her bed.

Root didn’t seem to want an answer though, taking Shaw’s silence as a sign that she approved of Root’s choice.

The woman in question sat up, reaching out and trying to take the book from Shaw’s hands, who, in response, gripped the book even tighter and, pulling it out of Root’s grasp, shot her a death glare; just because she was, for no apparent reason, tolerating the other woman’s presence didn’t mean she’d stand for Root touching her things.

Root simply raised an eyebrow, bringing her hands up into an exaggerated _I surrender_ sort of pose. “I just wanted to know what you were reading, Sam.”

“Don’t call me that,” Shaw ground out as Root dropped her hands. The other woman tilted her head curiously to the side.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” Shaw continued to glare at Root as she pursed her lips slightly before nodding.

“Alright. I just wanted to know what you reading, _Sameen_.” Root overly emphasized Shaw’s name, the syllables rolling off her tongue in a way that Shaw had never head, and she chalked the strange sensation hearing it created to irritation at the other woman.

“Well, you could have just _asked_.” Shaw looked back down at her book, hoping the other woman would get the message and leave.

Unfortunately, Root seemed to take that as an invitation to continue, “So, what _are_ you reading?”

Shaw closed her eyes, hoping beyond hope that when she opened them again, the other woman would be gone.

Sadly, this was not the case.

“I’m not going to stop asking until you answer me.” Root tilted her head at Shaw, who simply glared back.

“Is there any way to make you _stop talking_?”

Root grinned. “Answer my question, and we’ll find out.”

Shaw grit her teeth; she had the distinct impression that this conversation was going to end with Root getting punched in the teeth.

“Fine.” She held up her book for the other woman to see.

Root raised an eyebrow at Shaw. “ _Silence of the Lambs_?”

Shaw shrugged. “It’s a good book.”

“True, I guess. It’s always been a little too real for my taste. I’m more of a fantasy kind of girl myself.”

Shaw didn’t bother to acknowledge Root’s response, simply returning to her book.

“So, you like crime novels.” Shaw closed her eyes, irritation flashing hot and red through her skin. “What else do you like?”

“I thought you said if I answered your question, you’d stop talking.”

Root smirked at her. “I said we’d _find out_. And look,” she threw her arms out wide, “we’ve found out that I won’t.”

Shaw wondered how mad her mother would be if she came home to find that Shaw had strangled this woman.

Knowing her mother’s tendency to overreact, the answer would probably be: _very_.

Before Shaw could determine if the potential yelling and jail time would be worth the few hours of silence murder would bring, Root’s phone buzzed, the screen flashing on as a text came in.

Probably for the best, considering Shaw had been _very_ heavily leaning towards the murder end of the spectrum.

Root glanced down at her phone, reading the text.

“It’s my dad, he says I should head back home; we’re heading out to dinner soon.” Shaw couldn’t help but wonder what made Root think she cared. Root looked up as Shaw continued to stare, her murderous intentions well-hidden underneath a mask of disinterest. “If you want, I can ask him if you could come Along; I know your mom is working late tonight, and I’m sure it gets pretty lonely-”

“It’s fine.” Shaw interrupted, just wanting Root _gone_.

Root frowned, her eyebrows drawing in, “Are you sure, ‘cuz I’m sure they wouldn’t mind…”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Root hesitated a moment, her mouth opening slightly, before she closed it again, clearly hearing the dismissal in Shaw’s tone.

Nodding she stood up, moving towards the door. When she reached it, she turned back around. “Aren’t you going to show me out.”

Shaw simply turned back to her book, not moving from her spot on the bed. “You let yourself in, you can show yourself out.”

Shaw didn’t hear any movement for a moment, as though Root was waiting for something else, but when Shaw made no move to get up, or even _look_ up, she heard Root simply leave, closing the door softly behind her.

After a few moments, Shaw heard the front door close.

Shaw dropped her book onto the floor, and watched as it fell closed, whatever page she had been reading getting lost among the hundreds of others.

Not that it mattered; Shaw hadn’t been reading it anyway.

***

“Hey, Root,” She glanced up as Harold leaned towards her across the table, “where were you this afternoon? I was working on some code, and wanted to show you an algorithm I’d created, but I couldn’t find you.”

Root shrugged. “I was just out.”

Harold pinched his eyebrows, looking confused. “Out where?”

“Just out, exploring.” Root wasn’t entirely sure _why_ she didn’t want to tell him where she’d been all afternoon, after all it wasn’t like she wasn’t supposed to talk to Sameen or something, but when opened her mouth to tell him, she found herself… not.

Mrs. Carter frowned at Root, sharing a look with Mr. Carter. “You went out by yourself?”

“Yeah, I didn’t go far, just around the corner.”

Mr. Carter placed his knife down, looking confusedly – and possibly worriedly – at Root, “I’m not sure how comfortable I am with you wandering the city alone. I know you’re eighteen, but you’re also not familiar with the city.”

Root nodded, casting her eyes down at her plate, shifting uncomfortably at the lie, still unsure of why she didn’t just say the truth, but it was too late to change her story now.

“Sorry.” She looked up at her dad, meeting his eyes, “Next time, I want to head, I’ll go with someone else.”

He nodded, still looking sort of confused. “That’s all I ask.”

***

Don was lying in bed on his side, trying to fall asleep, when he felt his wife roll over in bed, placing a hand gently on his arm.

“Don?” Rolling over and propping himself up on one elbow, he faced found Courtney watching him with an odd expression on her face.

“Yeah, Hon?”

“I just…” she paused, letting out a breath; Don had been able to tell that something was bothering his wife all night since dinner, and he was fairly certain he knew what it was. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Do you think Root was lying earlier?”

Don sighed, letting his arm collapse and he lay down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I think she was.”

What Don _couldn’t_ figure out, was _why_ Root would lie.

Root was… well, Root was Root. She was enigmatic, slightly strange, and could at times be borderline cruel – although Don could hardly hold that against the young woman; in all honestly, he surprised that growing up the way she did, alone in a house with an alcoholic abusive mother before being sent into foster care, she was as well-adjusted as she was.

But if there was anything Root _wasn’t_ , it was dishonest. Even when she was younger, she couldn’t lie. And not just couldn’t, but _wouldn’t_ ; even when the rest of the kids would come up with some ridiculous story for how the lamp got broken, or how John managed to break his wrist, Root always caved and gave the truth.

The fact that she was lying now was… unnerving, to say the least, and Don didn’t know what to do about it; clearly his wife felt the same way.

“Should we talk to her about it?” Don glanced over at Courtney, who was watching him as he pondered the ceiling.

Don let out another breath as he turned his eyes back towards the grey ceiling, studying the peeling paint. After a moment, he slowly shook his head.

“No, I think we should let it go for now. She said she went out, if she was lying that means she was still in the building – where I don’t know.” His wife nodded, him having answered her unspoken question. “But that means that in all likelihood she was safe, which is what I care about. After all, she _is_ eighteen. If she doesn’t want to tell us something, there’s nothing we can do to make her.”

Courtney nodded, lying back down herself.

“I do think that we should keep an eye on her though. Just to make sure that nothing’s wrong.”

Courtney nodded again, relaxing slightly as she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

It took Don a lot longer to convince himself to do the same.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what it could possibly be that would convince Root to lie to him.

Out of everybody, Root had always been closest to Don. When she first moved in with them, he was the one who held her whenever she woke up from a nightmare, and he was always the first one she’d seek out when she had a question, a problem, or when she just wanted to talk.

When Root had first come out as gay, she’d told Don later that he was the one she was scared the most about telling, she he was the one she didn’t think she could live with disappointing. He’d simply pulled her into a hug, holding her tight against his chest as he promised her that _nothing_ she did could _ever_ make him disappointed in her.

But today, at the table, when he’d seen Root actively avoiding his gaze for the first time _forever_ , he couldn’t help but wonder what could possibly be so bad that she didn’t think she could tell him.


	5. Chapter 5

Shaw was _really_ starting to get pissed off. For the last week and a half, everyday like clockwork, Root would show up at her door, obnoxious smile in place, ready for some _bonding_ time (her words, definitely not Shaw’s).

And like clockwork, for some reason, Shaw kept letting her in, instead of following her instinct and slamming the door as hard as she could into the other woman’s face.

Shaw for the life of her, couldn’t figure out _why_ she kept letting the damn woman in, considering she thought Root was perhaps the single most annoying entity on the face of the planet.

She chalked it up to obligation; after all, the woman _had_ taken her to the hospital in her time of need.

That aside however, those hours spend with Root, alone in her room – which she _never_ let anyone in, not even Cole – were perhaps some of the most frustrating hours of her seventeen year old life.

For one, Root never _shut up_. She was either blabbering on about _something_ that Shaw didn’t give half a damn about, or she was incessantly flirting. Either way, it was enough to make Shaw consider shoving her out the window, or jumping out herself.

And the other woman seemed _enjoy_ driving Shaw to the brink of insanity, every eye roll, grunt, glare, or physical shove that Shaw gave her only goading her on, making her more bold, more incessant, more flirtatious.

And the worst part? The worst past was that Shaw didn’t really mind it.

Yes, she was frustrated and annoyed, but lately she’d found herself shoving Root away less and less, and rolling her eyes less frequently , grunting less. More often than not, she simply found herself quipping back, rolling her eyes in vague amusement rather than plain frustration.

She was finding that, for the first time in her life, she was sort of… lonely, when Root was gone.

It wasn’t that she _missed_ the other girl’s presence per say, more like, whenever Root wasn’t around, she found herself noticing it, whereas with other people – like her mother – it could Shaw hours to figure out she was alone in the apartment.

And judging from the way that Root’s eyes lit up whenever she saw Shaw, or whenever Shaw halfheartedly shoved her away, or – occasionally – gave a small laugh at something she’d said, Root felt it too.

_What the hell is that girl doing to me?_

***

“Who are you texting?” Root glanced up from her phone, the faint smile on her face disappearing as Joss collapsed onto the couch next to her. “Ooo,” Root watched as Joss’s eyes lit up, “is it some hot city girl?” She let out a gasp, “Oh my god, it’s that girl from the other night, Kara or whatever her name was isn’t it?”

The other night, Root and her friends had gone out to an all ages night club in the city, where Root – much to her sister and friends amusement – spent most of the night fending off a number of young men and women, including the so named Kara.

Before Root could response, Joss grabbed the phone from her hand.

She took one glance at the ID, and Root saw the look of confusion and vague disappointment cross her features. “You’re texting _Sameen_?” She threw the phone back at Root. “Why would you do that?”

Root shrugged. “She has interesting things to say.”

“Yeah, so does Jeremey; you don’t see me texting him.” Root rolled her eyes at the mention of Joss’ arch enemy, a boy in the grade above them from Bishop, who’d spent three years tormenting Root and Harold, mostly for being gay (he had tried bullying John once, and then John broke his nose and two of his ribs. After that, Jeremey went out of his way to avoid the larger boy).

“Sameen’s nothing like Jeremey.”

Joss gave her a disbelieving look. “She’s rude, mean, has less manners than Bear,” Root felt offended on behalf of their dog; Bear was surprisingly well mannered for a dog. “Not to mention she has the personality of a dead clam.”

Root rolled her eyes. “She’s really not.”

“Yeah,” Joss laughed, “whatever you say.”

Root frowned down at her phone as Joss turned the TV on in the background, watching some sport game that Root didn’t understand – which meant it could be just about any sport.

After about two weeks of Root randomly showing up at Sameen’s door – and two weeks of Sameen acting like she could care less that Root was there – she had eventually managed to convince Sameen to exchange numbers with her, just in case of another _incident_. 

“So what’s everybody in the mood for tonight?” Root’s thoughts were broken as Mrs. Carter entered the room, wiping her hands on a hand towel, the boys tumbling in after her as they finished cleaning the dishes from dinner. “We could watch a movie, play a game as a family, anything you guys want.”

John immediately threw himself onto a chair. “We could watch _The Terminator_.” Everyone let out a groan, causing John to look offended. “What? Come one guys, _The Terminator_ is a classic!”

Joss rolled her eyes, “Yeah, but every time we watch a movie, you _always_ suggest _The Terminator_. I want to watch something different.”

“How about _The Matrix_?” Harold spoke up as he settled, much more gently, next to John on the chair – which, Root noticed, was really only big enough for one, causing Harold to be practically sitting in John’s lap.

“No. No computer movies either.” John frowned at Joss.

“Since when did you become the queen of what movies we can and cannot watch?”

“Since you all started forcing me to what weird action or technological movies. No, tonight,” Joss leaned forward, pulling open the cabinet which housed the Carter’s rather extensive movie collection, “we’re gonna watch something that _I_ want to watch.”

“Like what?” Root was a little intrigued; Joss usually had pretty good taste in movies, and she made a good point – the last three times the gang had decided to watch a movie, John and Harold had picked.

“Like…” Joss rummaged around the cabinet for a moment, before finally pulling out a DVD, “ _A Simple Plan_. There.” She looked proud of herself as she pulled the DVD from its case and turned on the TV. “It’s suspense, action filled, and more importantly, I want to see it.”

Root shrugged, looking at the boys. Joss was right, it _was_ a good movie.

Mrs. Carter made popcorn and brought out about five bowls of it, before dimming the lights as everyone settled down, herself on the love seat beside her husband, while Joss and Root sat on the floor.

Just as the opening credits were coming to a close, there came a hesitant knock on the front door.

With a slight grumble, Mr. Carter extracted himself from the pile that was a bowl of popcorn, glass of wine, and Joss, who was leaning directly onto his legs, and went to answer the door.

Root heard the door open, and Mr. Carter’s greeting to whoever was on the other side, but she couldn’t make out what the other person said.

After a minute, Mr. Carter came back into the living room, making brief eye contact with Root before nodding toward the door. “Root, it’s for you.”

Puzzled, Root pushed herself off the ground, handing her bowl of popcorn to her sister and stepping over Johns legs.

As she walked towards the door, she could hear Joss asking Mr. Carter who was at the door, but she didn’t hear the answer as she pulled the door open a little wider, revealing Sameen standing on the other side.

She looked uncomfortable standing in the doorway, hands shoved into her jacket pockets and face turned slightly to the side a she focused most of her attention down the hallway.

Root frowned. She may not have spent much time with the other girl, but she knew enough to tell when something was… off, like the other night.

Stepping out into the hallway, Root closed the apartment door behind her, leaning against instead as Sameen took the same position against the wall across from her.

The two girls stood in silence for a bit, Root feeling like there was some reason that Sameen had come over, but not wanting to push and scare her away.

(Although she would hesitate to call Sameen Shaw _scared_ , Root got the feeling that dealing with her was a bit like dealing with a frightened dog; move too quickly, speak too loudly, and she’ll attack, but let things move at her own pace, and you could wind up with a friend).

Eventually, when it became clear that Sameen wasn’t going to be the first to talk, Root decided to take matters into her own hands.

“How’s the hand?” Sameen looked up, meeting Root’s eyes for a moment before glancing down as she pulled her hand from her pocket, raising it in the air and showing off the white bandage wrapped across her palm and fingers.

“Getting there.” Root nodded, biting her lip as she watched the girl across the hall.

Jerking her head backwards slightly, she motioned to the door. “You want to come in? We were just getting ready to watch a movie, I think it’s called _A Simple Plan_.” Sameen shook her head, ducking it slightly.

“No, it’s fine.” She brushed some of the hair that fell into her face away with her good hand, pushing against the wall and straightening. “Didn’t realize you guys were doing anything. I’m just gonna-”

Root grabbed her arm as she made to head back to her apartment. “Okay, so you don’t want to watch a movie. You want to get out of here?”

Sameen looked up at Root, slightly startled it seemed by the other girls offer.

Root watched as the other girl seemed to weight her options for a moment, before once again shaking her head. “No, like I said, it’s fine. I’ll let you get back to watching your movie.” Sameen once again made as though to move away, and was once again stopped by Root.

“Wait here.” Root pushed Sameen slightly so that she was once again leaning against the wall. “Don’t move.” With a small smile, Root released the other girls arm and moved back to her door, opening it and slipping inside.

Leaving the door slightly open, she looked across the room to Mr. Carter – who was watching Root with a strange expression on his face, one Root never remembered seeing before – and motioned to let him know she would be leaving.

Root stood there as he surveyed her for a moment, growing slightly confused and also a little uncomfortable as he just watched her, before finally he nodded.

Shaking off her vague discomfort, she smiled at him before grabbing her coat, apartment key, and wallet, slipping back out the door.

***

Shaw looked out the window of the diner, watching as the hundreds of people walked past.

She didn’t really know what it was that made her knock on Root’s door – she just did.

Her and her mom had gotten home from yet _another_ therapy session, yet _again_ filled with frustration, annoyance, and anger (on Sameen’s part), disappointment, and maybe a little shame (on her mother’s part), as well as thinly veiled discomfort and more frustration (on the therapists part). Shaw and her mother had been fighting the whole way home because she’d been _referred_ to a different therapist, one that, according to her former one, was better equipped to handle Shaw (read: her therapist had finally gotten sick of her and so sent off to some other sucker to deal with).

It wasn’t Shaw’s fault that therapists hated her – well, okay, maybe it was a _little_ bit her fault, but she wasn’t going to admit that to her mother.

Usually after therapy sessions, Shaw would put earbuds in, blast music as loudly as she could stand, and go at her heavy bag until she physically collapsed.

Unfortunately, after the little _incident_ early that week, her mother decided that Shaw was too prone to _violent outbursts_ and so had removed the bag, along with all of Shaw’s other fighting gear, leaving her with nothing to work out her frustration on – unless she wanted to _redecorate_ her room again, which normally wouldn’t be a problem, except the cuts on her hand still hadn’t healed.

So Shaw had sat in her room for half an hour, silently fuming and wishing for something to hit, when Root started to text her.

She had responded for a while, her frustration still bubbling under her skin, but somehow it was more manageable while she was talking to Root.

After a few minutes, Root had stopped, and Shaw figured that she was busy, so she tried to find other ways to deal with her frustration, but after about fifteen minutes, it was clear that it was never going to work, and that she’d probably just wind up hitting something anyway, so, without really thinking about, she’d headed next door.

Shaw could tell that Mr. Carter was more than a little surprised to see her standing there, and even more so when she said she wanted to talk to Root. A part of her thought that he was going to turn her away, so she was sort of taken aback when he simply nodded and disappeared into the apartment, only to be replaced by Root moments later.

When she saw Root, Shaw could feel herself relaxing slightly, just like she had while they were texting. They didn’t really talk at all, Shaw simply taking… comfort, she guessed, from Root’s presence, and Root seemed to be doing the same.

Then Root had invited her in, and Shaw felt uncomfortable all over again. So she tried to leave, but unlike nearly every other person Shaw had ever met, Root didn’t let her go, and she didn’t force her to stay. Rather, she saw what Shaw wanted, and made it happen, without ever asking.

And even here, at the same small diner they went to days earlier – back when Shaw’s hand had stung anew and Root had watched with barely concealed admiration and interest – Root didn’t force Shaw to talk, or to interact, or to do _anything_. She just patiently sat there with a smile and watched Shaw as she watched the rest of the world.

“I didn’t mean to.” Shaw blinked, surprised for a moment, at the words that left her mouth; she hadn’t planned on saying them, she hadn’t planned on saying anything.

Root looked just about as surprised, but she quickly recovered. “You didn’t mean to do what?”

Shaw was silent a moment, staring down at her burger and fries. “Trash my room the other day, cut my hand.” She shrugged.

Shaw looked back out the window. She knew Root was probably a little taken aback – after they got home that night, neither one had mentioned the incident, other than Root occasionally asking about Shaw’s hand. Both simply seemed content to forget that it had ever happened.

For a few moments, Shaw thought that Root was going to ignore her statement, simply take it at face value.

“How do you trash your room without meaning to?” Shaw half expected Root’s voice to be filled with disbelief, ridicule, or even for her to make a joke out of it; instead, she sounded genuinely curious.

Looking up at Root, Shaw found that she was watching with her with genuine curiosity; she wasn’t making fun of Shaw, or thinking that she was making excuses. She really wanted to know.

Shaw shrugged. “It just happens sometimes. I get mad, or frustrated, or annoyed, and… I break things, or hurt people.”

Shaw really wasn’t sure why she was telling Root this, after all, what better way to scare off the person you were maybe kind of starting to become friends with than to mention that occasionally you just go out of control and destroy things.

The table was silent, the only sound that of the cars and passersby, muted by the glass and brick beside Shaw.

“Why were you mad?” Shaw looked up at Root.

“What?”

Root shrugged, reaching across the table and taking one of Shaw’s fries – it was probably a testament to how surprised Shaw was that she didn’t break Root’s hand for touching her food – and popping it into her mouth. “You said you broke things when you got mad. Since you kind of destroyed your room, I figured you were mad. So why were you mad?”

Shaw watched Root for another moment. “My friend’s parents are assholes.”

Root raised an eyebrow, stealing another fry. “A lot of people are assholes, but something tells me you don’t decide to remodel every time someone’s a jerk to you.”

Shaw couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her, before quickly sobering. “No, I guess not.”

Root reached across the table and gently took Shaw’s injured hand in her own, in a gesture for which Shaw would normally hit someone, and Shaw waited for the anger that seemed to always be hidden under her skin to boil over.

It never came. Instead, Shaw felt… calm, as though Root’s presence didn’t just keep the anger at bay, but seemed to disperse it all together.

When it became clear that Shaw wasn’t going to pull away, Root’s thumb began rubbing along the back of her hand.

“You want to talk about it?”

Shaw had spent nearly four hours that day being asked that question. _Do you want to talk about it?_ – about her anger, her friends, her lack-there-of, her mother, her father, and every time that smug, pompous therapist sat there and asked the same question over and over, Shaw had gotten progressively more frustrated, until she’d finally snapped.

But when Root asked it, she didn’t feel the same rush of anger that usually accompanied the question. Maybe it was the fact that Root was looking at her like she genuinely wanted to know the answer, rather than simply asking because it was she was being paid to do, or maybe it was because it was _Root_ who was doing the asking.

“They just…” Shaw trailed off slightly, letting out a huff as she reached out with the hand not currently being held by Root’s to play with her straw, eyes falling to the slowly melting ice cubes rather than Root’s eyes, “don’t like me, I guess.”

“Why wouldn’t they like you?” Shaw looked up, feeling, for a moment, completely thrown by the question, because Root sounded serious, as though it was impossible for her to comprehend the idea of someone not liking Shaw.

“Because I’m… me.” Shaw looked back out the window, not really knowing what else to say; she’d never had to explain to people why no one ever liked her, mostly because there was never anyone to have to explain it to.

“I think you’re perfect just the way you are.” Root spoke so quietly, it took Shaw a moment to register that Root had spoken, much less what it was that she had said.

Whipping her head around, Shaw found herself staring at Root’s profile as the other woman gazed out the window, her hand still holding Shaw’s own.

For a second, Shaw sat there, mouth slightly open, watching as the other woman watched the world. She thought maybe she should… feel _something_ – and knowing herself, Shaw expected to feel a rush of irrational anger – instead, she felt… nothing.

Looking down once again at their entwined hands, Shaw wondered for the first time if she should extract her own, pull it back to her side of the table, away from Root, away from… whatever the hell it was that was happening.

She turned back to window, eyes following the hundreds of people passing by, sitting silently across from perhaps the single most confusing person in the universe.

Root’s thumb never stopped caressing the back of her hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Don smiled at his adopted daughter as she waved goodbye before rushing out of the apartment.

Root had been acting… strange wasn’t the right word, but honestly, Don wasn’t sure what else to call it. Ever since that night– when he, Courtney and Ana had arrived home to find that his daughter had taken Sameen to the hospital after an unexplained incident involving glass – Root had been secretive. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but from someone who couldn’t keep her mouth closed at the best of times, not knowing why she was always smiling to herself or who she was texting was a little strange.

But Don had simply shrugged it off, understanding that Root was eighteen; maybe she just wasn’t as willing to share everything with him as she’d been when she was younger.

Then Sameen Shaw had knocked on his door.

Don had never really had a relationship with the Shaw girl; he was friends with Ana, and he would have liked to get to know Sameen, especially since he was cop in New York city and he knew that Ana worked most of the time, leaving Sameen by herself in the apartment, but the girl always made it fairly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him.

So when he opened the door that night to find her on the other side, to say he’d been surprised would have been an understatement.

When she said she was there to talk to Root, he was nearly blown away. 

But he’d nodded, gotten Root, and watched as his daughter smiled shyly at the woman before slipping out the door, ignoring the inquisitive looks and questions coming from the remainder of his family.

Then she’d come back in nearly ten minutes later, that same shy smile still gracing her face.

She was practically bouncing, her eyes bright and full of mischief, and it took him far too long to comprehend that she was waiting for his permission to leave.

She’d disappeared for several hours, not returning until long after the movie had finished and the house was silent save for the whispering breath of his sleeping family.

 He’d been sitting on the couch, in nearly the same position he’d been in when she’d left, book open in his lap when he’d heard the sound of movement in the hall.

He heard footsteps stop outside the door, and then nothing for close to fifteen minutes, until finally, he heard a door close nearby, and his own gently opened.

Root had slipped back into the room, closing the door softly as she did, quietly placing her keys on the counter and throwing her coat on the kitchen chair nearby. She’d seemed surprised that he was there, clearly not expecting to find him still awake at – he’d glanced briefly at the kitchen clock – one in the morning. Standing up, he’d made his way over to his daughter.

“You girls have fun?’ Root nodded, a small smile making its way onto her face.

He’d gazed at her for a moment.

“I didn’t know that you and Sameen really talked.” Root had shrugged, the smile still on her face as she ducked her head slightly, brushing her hair behind her ear. “What did she want?”

“A friend.” Don couldn’t help the surprised look that took over his face at the comment.

Of all the people he thought wanted or needed friends, Sameen Shaw was at the bottom of his list.

He frowned. “She never really struck me as the type of girl who… _did_ friends.”

Root had looked up at him then. “Everyone needs friends, even Sameen.” She shrugged. It just takes her longer to admit it.”

She’d smiled up at him, sort of sadly, then leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing into the room that she and Joss shared.

He’d stood there for a while after that, simply staring after his daughter.

***

Root stood outside of Sameen’s door, jacket in one hand as she waited for the other woman to push open the door.

The Carters had gone to the movies for the night – apparently there was some new movie that Joss desperately wanted to see, and had somehow roped John and Harold into watching. They had asked Root if she wanted to go with them, but ever since Root lost her hearing in her right ear, she hadn’t really been a fan of movie theaters; besides, Root would much rather have stayed home.

So, she’d told the Carters as much.

As they were leaving, Mr. Carter gave Root a look, and she had the feeling he knew _exactly_ why should rather have stayed home, and how much it had to do with a certain young woman next door.

Root knew that Mrs. Shaw would be working that night, and although she _didn’t_ particularly like movie theaters, nor was she all that interest in watching whatever movie it was that Joss wanted to see, a part of her had felt guilty making plans to go out and have fun with her family, while Sameen would be stuck at home, all by herself.

Mr. Carter hadn’t told anybody who had been at the door the other night, or about what happened when Root had returned home – she knew because Joss was still under the impression that it was some girl that Root had met.

 _Well, she wasn’t exactly wrong_ , Root smirked to herself, before glancing at her watch. Her smirk was quickly replaced by a frown.

She’d been standing outside the Shaw’s apartment for nearly five minutes, and Sameen still hadn’t made a move to open the door. She checked her phone, to make sure that she had actually texted Sameen telling her she was heading over.

She had.

Sameen hadn’t responded.

Root knocked again, before calling through the door. “Hey, Sameen? You there?” She held her breath waiting for a reply. When one didn’t come, her frown deepened; although Sameen might be antisocial and not like people, she _always_ responded to Root.

Pulling up her contacts, she clicked the one that read ‘ _Sweetie_ ’, a nickname that Sameen had been super angry about. Or, at least it had seemed that way, but she’d never actually made Root change it, or changed it herself, so Root had figured she didn’t really mind.

Pressing her phone to her good ear, she heard it ring. Puling her phone away from her ear, she realized she could hear Sameen’s phone ringing through the door.

Root frowned. If Sameen was home, why wasn’t answering the door.

One glance at her phone showed that the call had gone to voicemail.

Raising her hand, she knocked again, this time louder. “Sameen? I know you’re in there, what’s going on?” The lack of response was starting to worry Root.

Most people would assume that if Sameen wasn’t answering Root’s texts, phone call, or the knocking, that it meant she wanted to be left alone. Root knew better; if Sameen really wanted her gone, she would have opened the door and told Root in person, presumably with a choice of colorful vocabulary and perhaps a physical shove.

The fact that Sameen was not only _not_ answering her and _not_ telling her go away, was making Root _very_  worried.

Making a decision, Root tried the doorknob, and found that it spun easily in her palm.

Pushing the door open, she stepped into the living room, a strange sense of déjà vu coming over her as she called out to let Sameen know that she was no longer alone in the apartment – the last thing Root wanted was to get kicked in the head or something by the tiny Persian.

The living room looked exactly the way it had when she’d first seen it, but this time there was some sort of… energy in the apartment. Something that set Root’s whole body on edge.

That’s when Root saw the blood.

There wasn’t a whole lot of it, just a couple drops here and there, but it was still enough for Root to be concerned, wondering if Sameen had somehow managed to reopen her hand.

Dropping her coat onto the nearest chair, she made her way down the hallway, towards Sameen’s bedroom, but she hesitated when she saw that the light in the bathroom across the way was on, and the door was partially open.

Slowly, she made her way towards it.

“Sameen?”

Root jumped slightly when she heard the sound of something hitting the floor, followed by swearing come from the bathroom.

She moved closer to the door, hesitantly pushing it open.

Looking through, she couldn’t help but let out a gasp.

There was a bottle of what looked like hydrogen peroxide lying on the floor, slowly spilling its contents onto the tile, while Sameen was standing shirtless at the sink, a towel held to her forehead.

Now usually, Root would be drooling at the sight of shirtless Sameen, but at the moment Root only felt like she was about to hurl.

There were bruises covering Sameen’s entire side; some black and blue, other more yellow and green, marring her olive skin.

Eyes drifting up, Root covered her mouth as she saw the bruises lining Sameen’s throat.

Root froze, her eyes meeting Sameen’s in the mirror; her own filled with worry, horror, confusion, and anger, Sameen’s gazing at her with calm disinterest.

Slowly, her hand dropped from her mouth.

“What the _hell_ happened?”

***

Shaw averted her eyes at the shock in Root’s voice, something unfamiliar tugging at her chest.

She hadn’t answered the door for a reason.

“Nothing.” Shaw tried not to wince at the sound of her voice, thick and hoarse as she forced air through her bruised airways.

“ _Nothing_?” Root’s voice was so quiet, Shaw wasn’t even sure she’d really spoken. “You mean to tell me _this_ is nothing?” Her voice was slowly increasing in volume, and Shaw closed her eyes as the noise sent a bolt of pain into her brain, making her wonder yet again if she had a concussion. “Sameen, you look like someone-”

Shaw heard her cut herself off, with a strangled gasp.

Shaw kept her eyes closed as she grit her teeth; she could practically _hear_ Root thinking through all the possibilities.

“Who did this?” Root’s voice was a strange mixture of anger and horror, and something about it pulled at Shaw’s insides.

Turning around, Shaw opened her eyes, resisting the urge to step backwards into the sink when she realized just how close Root was standing.

The other woman was mere inches away from Sameen, her hands hovering by Shaw’s side, like she was afraid to touch her.

Shaw looked up, and she felt every aching muscle in her body freeze at the look in Root’s eyes, her breath catching in her throat.

Shaw tried to hold Root’s gaze, but after a few seconds, the raw emotion in Root’s eyes forced her to look away, and Shaw averted her eyes, choosing instead to look at the floor.

“No one.” Shaw couldn’t even hear her own voice when she spoke, so she was surprised when Root caught her chin with her hand, pulling her face up. Root drew the towel away from the cut above her eye.

Root didn’t say anything as she gently took Shaw’s face in one hand and the towel in the other, softly dabbing at the slowly welling blood.

Shaw swallowed, her eyes dropping back to the floor.

“Sameen.” Root caught her chin again, forcing Shaw to look her in the eyes, and Shaw thought she had never seen Root look so serious. Usually, no matter what they were talking about, there was always a hint of jest, amusement, or mischievousness, but now, her eyes were cold, anger burning through them with a ferocity that Shaw had only ever seen in the mirror. “Who did this to you?”

Shaw shifted her weight, trying to pull her face out of Root’s grip, but when stared to move, Root’s grip only tightened, preventing Shaw from pulling away.

“Sameen.” Root’s voice was quiet as she pulled Shaw’s face towards her again.

Shaw just shook her head, or at least as much as she could, what with Root keeping hold of her chin.

“It’s nothing, Root.” Shaw closed her eyes with a slight wince as Root pressed down on the cut, sending a slight stinging through her skull, swallowing thickly against the bile that rose in her throat at the pain.

“This is the _farthest_ thing from nothing, Sameen.” She sounded as though someone had hit _her_ , and something in Shaw’s gut _twisted_ , and she has the distinct feeling that the room was spinning behind her eyelids.

Shaw felt her knees buckle as all of a sudden she felt as though her head were about to explode.

If it weren’t for Root, Shaw was fairly certain she would have cracked her head on the corner of the sink as she fell.

***

Root wasn’t really sure _what_ happened; one minute she was standing there, trying to get the cut above Sameen’s eye to stop bleeding (something she found she spent _far_ too much time doing), and the next she was catching Sameen as the other girl collapsed.

Trying to be careful of the bruises littering Sameen’s side, Root gently help lower her to the floor, panic rising in her throat as Sameen gagged.

“Sam?” She was so preoccupied with making sure the other woman wasn’t _dying_ that she didn’t register the nickname sliding off her tongue.

She dropped to her knees beside Sameen, pulling her hair back and out of her face.

After a few minutes, Sameen stopped convulsing, and instead was leaning heavily against Root, her entire body shaking.

“That’s it,” Root gently leaned Sameen back against the sink, standing up, “we’re going to the hospital.” She reached into her back pocket, going for her phone, and was only stopped when Sameen’s hand weakly closed around her wrist.

 Root looked down at the girl, who in turn shook her head slightly, swallowing again against what Root could only assume was nausea brought on by the movement. Even without Sameen speaking, Root knew what she was trying to say.

With an aggravated sigh, she knelt back down. “Sameen,” she paused, waiting for the other woman to open her eyes, “you have bruises covering _half_ of your body, and god knows if anything’s broken, not to mention that you _definitely_ have a concussion, okay?” Sameen simply closed her eyes, her head dropping back slightly. Root reached forward and gently coaxed Sam’s eyes open again. “You _need_ a hospital.”

Again, the other woman didn’t respond with words, but rather another shake of her head. After another few seconds, she finally spoke, her voice still disconcertingly quiet.

“No hospital.” Root grit her teeth in frustration. She _knew_ she couldn’t just force Sameen to go to a hospital, despite her every instinct telling her to do just that.

After a moment, she sighed, dropping her hands and falling back on her heels.

“Fine.” Sameen looked up at Root, an expression of vague surprise on her features, as though she hadn’t expected Root to agree; not that _Root_ had expected to agree. “We’ll stay here, _but_ ” She paused, making sure she had Sameen’s attention, “I’m staying with you. And if I think that you’re getting any worse, and I mean _any_ , we’re heading straight to the hospital, got it?” Sameen nodded once. “Good.”

Root looked at her friend – the pale skin, blood still oozing slightly from the cut, dripping down the side her face, the bruises visible thanks to her lack of a shirt (looking closely at it now, Root could _see_ the individual tread marks from what appeared to be boots imprinted into Sameen’s side) – every inch of her _aching_ to push until she got an answer to who did it, but another look into Sameen’s the bleary eyes, struggling to focus through the pain, concussion and blood, and all Root wanted to do was wrap Sameen in her arms and never let go.

She settled for standing up, reaching for the abandoned towel lying on the pink stained porcelain, and crouching back down.

“Let’s get this cleaned up, okay?” Root’s voice was barely above a whisper as she invaded Sameen’s space, the other girl hardly reacting.

***

Ana Shaw sighed as she opened her front door.

It had been a hectic night at work – for some reason the servers all decided that tonight was the best time to break down, and it had taken _hours_ to get them up and working again, meaning that she’d been stuck there until she could finish the work she couldn’t complete thanks to the servers.

In the apartment next door, she could hear the Carters; it sounded as though they were just getting home from somewhere. She absently hoped that they’d had a better night then she had.

Walking through the living room towards the hallway leading to her bedroom, she was so tired, it took her a minute to realize that something was out of place.

Frowning she turned back around; there was a black leather jacket thrown across one of the chairs. She wondered absently if perhaps it was one of Sameen’s, except Sameen _always_ kept her things in specific places, she’d never just throw it on a chair and leave it there.

Still frowning, she made her way down the hall and to Sameen’s room, gently pushing open the door.

Peering through she could see Sameen lying and presumably asleep in bed, her back facing the door, which wasn’t unusual, but what was unusual, was the other girl asleep curled up in the bean bag chair across the room.

She just stood there for a moment, confusion filling every inch of her body.

Sameen _never_ let people sleep in her room, she never let anybody _in_ her room. So seeing Root not just _in_ her daughter room, but also _asleep_ was definitely a sight she hadn’t been expecting.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of knocking on her front door. With one last frown at the two girls, she made her way back out into the living room and to the door.

Pulling it open, she was confronted by a rather worried looking Don Carter.

“Hey, Ana, I know you just got home, but I can’t find Root anywhere and I was wondering if maybe Sameen might-”

Ana cut him off, “She’s here.” Don blinked in surprise.

“She’s _here_?” Ana simply nodded, her own surprise painting her features.

“I got home and saw, what I’m assuming to be her jacket thrown on a chair. When I went to check on Sameen, the two girls were asleep in her room.”

Don opened his mouth in confusion, before closing it again. Shaking his head, he spoke, “Well, I guess I’ll take her back-”

Again, Ana cut him off, “Don’t worry about it. She seemed to be pretty well asleep. I’ll just send her over in the morning.”

Don frowned slightly. “Are you sure?”

Ana nodded, “Of course, don’t worry about it.”

Don nodded, frown still in place. “Well, if you’re sure.” He stepped back awkwardly, raising his hand in a wave. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Goodnight, Don.” Ana smiled at the other man as she closed the door, before turning back around, the smile slowly dropping from her face to be replaced by confusion.

 _And just when I thought that_ maybe _I was beginning to understand my daughter_.

With a final shake of her head, she made to way to her own bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her so as not to disturb the girls next door.

***

Shaw groaned as she squinted open her eyes, the bright light from the open window sending a jolt of pain ricocheting throughout her brain.

She really should have remembered to close the shades before she went to bed.

Which, now that she thinks about it, she didn’t remember getting into.

As she allowed her eyes to drift shut, she heard the sound of her blinds closing before the light suddenly cut out, plunging the room into reasonable darkness.

Cracking open her eyes, she got ready to yell at her mother for entering Shaw’s room, but the words died in her throat when she realized the woman kneeling beside her bed wasn’t her mother.

“How are you feeling?”

Shaw blinked in surprise at Root, her sleep addled brain trying to figure out why the _hell_ this woman was in her room.

Root didn’t seem fazed by her lack of response, simply reaching over and gently running her fingers of Shaw’s right eye, causing yet another, albeit lesser, jolt of pain.

Shaw pulled her head away from Root’s hand.

“Stop that.” Root frowned at Shaw, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Either you let me make sure you’re okay, or I’m going to walk out there, wake up your mother, and drive you to the hospital myself.’

 _Hospital? Why would I_ …

Shaw’s eyes widened as she remembered the events of the night before.

She had been out wandering the streets earlier that afternoon, bored of sitting at home with nothing but silence – Root had been spending time with her family, and while Shaw couldn’t be mad at her for choosing them, she didn’t have to like the boredom that accompanied it.

So, she’d gone out.

For the most part she’d just wandered around their neighborhood, before heading down to some other places around she liked to hang out, and before she knew it, it was dark, and she was being confronted by a group of three guys.

She didn’t remember what it was they wanted – she didn’t know if they’d even told her – she was so hyped up on adrenaline, the thought of a fight sparking the ever present current of frustration and anger held right beneath the surface of skin. 

She remembered she’d made some sarcastic comment, which in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best move.

She’d managed to take two of them down with well-placed kicks, but the third had decided to play dirty and clubbed her in the head with a baseball bat. She went down, and after that, things got a little blurry, but judging from the aching in her ribs and the soreness in her throat, she was gonna guess that whatever happened, it wasn’t good.

But she wasn’t dead, or in a hospital or police station, so she figured it could be worse.

Root just fixed her with a look, before reaching out again and pulling the blankets from Shaw’s torso, revealing the source of the ache Shaw was feeling in her ribs.

It looked pretty bad, her entire side a mixture of black and blue, green and yellow, but logically she knew it probably looked a lot worse than it actually was.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t let me take you to a hospital.” Shaw looked up as Root muttered to herself from the edge of the bed.

The other woman was examining her intensely, her hands hovering just over Shaw’s skin.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t _make_ me go.” Root glanced up at Shaw, a smirk playing on the corners of her lips.

“Now, Sameen, I would _never_ make you do anything.” She paused a moment, “Well. Nothing you didn’t _want_ to do.”

Shaw just glared at Root for a moment, before rolling her eyes and collapsing back onto the bed.

“Does everything that comes out of your mouth have to be an innuendo?” Shaw could _feel_ Root’s smirk.

“Of course.” Shaw rolled her eyes again.

At least Root was honest about it.

Suddenly, there was a knocking on the door.

Shaw quickly puller her covers back up, covering her bruised side as Root moved away from the edge of the bed, choosing to sit cross legged on the floor a couple of feet away.

No sooner had both girls gotten settled, then the door creaked open, Shaw’s mother peering around the door frame. When she realized both girls were awake, she pushed the door open more fully.

“Good morning, girls. Just came by to check on you two. Root,” she addressed the taller girl, who looked up from the book in her hands (where she’d pulled that from, Shaw had no idea), “you’re dad wanted you to head back over when you woke up.” She turned to face Shaw, who had rolled over so that she could see her mother, and Shaw watched as the smile dropped from her face to be replaced by a look of concerned confusion. “Sameen, what happened to your head?”

Shaw internally cursed. She’d been so focused on hiding the bruises on her torso, she’d forgotten the cut above her eye. She opened her mouth to answer – though what she was going to say, Shaw had no idea – but was beaten to the punch by Root.

“Sameen was showing me some wrestling moves last night, and I guess I don’t know my own strength. I flipped her over and she caught her head on the corner of her desk.” Root sounded so sincere, that if Shaw didn’t know any better, she would almost believe it.

Her mother blinked at Root for a moment before nodding, frowning slight, “Yes, well, I keep telling Sameen that that kind of stuff is too dangerous. You girls should be more careful.”

Root nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry Mrs. Shaw, we _definitely_ won’t be doing that again.” Root shot Shaw a look. “Will we, Sameen?”

Shaw shook her head.

Her mother nodded again, seemingly satisfied with their excuse, and satisfied with their response.

“Right, well you’re welcome to stay for breakfast if you’d like Root, but then I think you’d better head back to your apartment.” She smiled once more at the two, but Shaw could see the hints of confusion hidden behind it.

“Yeah, thanks.” Shaw rolled back over so that she was facing Root and away from the door, not moving again until she heard her mother close the door behind her.

Once the door was closed, she raised an eyebrow at Root.

“We were _wrestling_?” Root shrugged, her ever present smirk creeping across her features.

“Well, one can only dream.” Shaw rolled her eyes, throwing her pillow at Root as she moved to stand.

“Sameen?” Shaw froze, her feet touching the floor as she swung her legs off the side of the bed. Root’s voice sounded… odd. Looking up, Shaw saw Root watching her with an almost unreadable expression.

For someone usually so open, it was sort of unnerving.

“Yeah, Root?” Her own voice was devoid of all emotion.

“Are we going to talk about last night?”

Shaw sighed. She had been expecting this, a part of her had just wanted it to be later (the other half wanted it to be _never_ , but even Shaw wasn’t I enough to think _that_ would happen). “What is there to talk about?”

Root stared at her incredulously. “Oh, I don’t know Sameen, how about, who the hell _beat_ you?”

Shaw glared at Root. “No one _beat_ me.”

Root cocked her head to the side, eyes unamused as she spoke, her voice _dripping_ sarcasm, “Right, because you just, what, happened to walk into an oncoming car that was wearing size eleven men’s boots?”

Shaw closed her eyes as her brain started pounding against the inside of her skull. It was too early, and she was in too much pain for this conversation.

“Look, Root, can you just drop it?”

“Drop it?” Root let out a humorless laugh. “Sameen, I showed up here last night and found you in the bathroom looking like the poster child for a domestic abuse hotline, okay? You almost passed out, and if I hadn’t been there to catch you, who the hell _knows_ what would have happened to you. You could have _died_ , Sameen.” She paused a moment, letting it sink in, “And you want me to just _drop_ it?”

“Well, it’s not like I asked for you to be there, Root. Hell, I didn’t even _want_ you there. Why do you think I didn’t answer the damn door, or my phone, or your goddamn texts?” The pounding was getting worse, and Shaw couldn’t tell if it was frustration, her concussion, or the fact that Root was staring at her like her world just about fell apart that was making her feel nauseous. “So don’t act like I owe you something, or like you did me some huge favor, okay?”

The room fell silent for a moment, as Root just stared at Shaw, her expression blank and cold, and Shaw stared back, her own expression most likely one of frustration.

After a few tense moments, Root stood up, not making eye contact with Shaw as she did.

“Fine. Next time you find yourself bleeding out, or half-conscious somewhere, or _dying_ , don’t bother to call me.”

Shaw closed her eyes as Root left the room, wincing as the door shut loudly behind her.

Blinking her eyes open, Shaw expected to find herself relieved to be alone, but the odd rolling sensation in her gut didn’t diminish, and as she swallowed heavily against the vertigo that slammed into her as she made to stand, bile rising in her throat as she grabbed onto the bedside table to steady herself, she found herself wishing, for just a split second, that Root would come walking back through the door.

***

“I’m not mad that you were at Sameen’s, Root. I’m mad because you didn’t _tell_ anyone, and you weren’t home when we got back.” Don could tell that Courtney was getting rather frustrated with this whole situation, and frankly he wasn’t all that far behind.

“I said I was sorry!” It appeared as though Root was also getting frustrated, if her tone said anything about it.

Root had come back from the Shaws about an hour ago, and was immediately sat down by Don and Courtney, so that they could have a discussion about just randomly disappearing with no warning.

Well, she was mostly sat down by Courtney.

The second Root entered the apartment, face stormy, eyes an ocean of emotions, Don knew that something was wrong, and if it were up to hi he probably would have given Root sometime to calm down before confronting her.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just up to him.

“You could have left a note, or called one of us, you could have even texted, Samantha.” Don winced a little as Courtney pulled out the first name stop.

They rarely ever addressed Root by her given name, but when they did, it meant that they were _really_ not pleased.

And judging from the way that Root sunk lower into her chair, glowering at the floor, she knew it meant she was in real trouble.

“Look,” Don stepped in, trying to defuse the situation, “I know you’re eighteen, and I know that you think that means you shouldn’t have to tell us where you’re going, who you’re with, what you’re doing, and all of that, and if we were in Bishop I would agree with you. But,” he paused waiting until Root looked up, “we’re not in Bishop. We’re in a big city, one that you’re not familiar with, and it would be easy for you to get lost.”

Don saw Root sit up in her chair, mouth already opening to argue, and he cut her off, “This isn’t about your hearing, Root. When you first arrived, I gave you, Joss, John and Harold all the same instructions:  tell me or your mother where you’re going, and  don’t go anywhere alone, and you’ve already broken both those rules.” He and Courtney had decided not to confront Root about the suspected lie from earlier that month; after all, by now Don was pretty sure he figured out where she had been.

“So your father and I have decided to ground you.” Don closed his eyes, he would have liked to approach the topic a little more gently then that, but it appeared as though they were going to discuss it now.

Root sat up straight in her chair, eyes flashing. “What do you mean _grounded_?” The indignation in her voice was evident.

“It means grounded.” Courtney sounded not at all affected by Root’s tone. “For the foreseeable future, when you leave the apartment, you have to have someone with you – whether that be me, your father, sister, John, or Harold, anyone will do. You also have to be back in the apartment by ten o’clock every night.”

Root clenched her jaw shut, clearly not happy with this arrangement.

After a few tense moments, Root looked away, crossing her arms and glaring out the window.

Courtney took that as a sign of agreement.

Her shoulders relaxing slightly, she reached out to place a hand on Root’s shoulder, only to have – for the first time that Don can remember – Root pull away.


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks passed, and still Root had made good on her (implied) threat.

Shaw hadn’t seen nor heard from Root since she’d stormed out of Shaw’s room. Admittedly, Shaw couldn’t really blame her, it wasn’t like Shaw had been the nicest to her that morning, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t… bothered by the other girl’s disappearance.

She didn’t miss Root, not on the way that most people would miss someone, mostly, Shaw had just sort of gotten used to Root always constantly talking in her ear about god knows what, and suddenly finding herself sitting around her apartment – alone, bored, with no one to talk to and nothing to do – she found that it bothered her more than it used.

Before Root, Shaw could sit in her alone in her apartment for hours, hell _days_ , at a time without the lack of human communication bothering her, but now, after only a month of real, forced, human interaction, she found that the silence was louder than before, more oppressive, more grating.

Her mother seemed to be noticing Shaw’s shift in demeanor as well.

Shaw had always been abrasive, rude, blunt, easily angered and less then emotional – traits which always seemed to annoy, confuse, and frustrate her mother as much as her mother’s tendency to be emotional, soft spoken, and overly kind had always grated on Shaw. Now, however, it seemed like every little thing her mother did grated on Shaw’s nerves, leading to more than a few outburst, broken plates, glasses and bowls, not to mention a few almost physical interactions where Shaw had to force herself to calm down before she did something rash – like commit murder.

After the eighth time that Shaw threw a glass against the wall, instantly shattering it and cracking the plater on the kitchen wall, her mother had been avoiding Shaw to the best of her ability; in the last four days, Shaw had seen her mother maybe three times.

Shaw’s injuries were healing nicely; her side was returning to its normal olive complexion, and her throat, luckily, hadn’t been bruised badly enough to last very long at all. Her headaches had started to diminish after a few days, as Shaw felt the residual effects of her probable concussion dissipating.

But it was in those first couple days after the accident – the ones where Shaw would wake up in the middle of night, her head pounding, side aching – where she would roll over, half expecting to see Root lying asleep on the chair in the corner, or against the window, and, upon finding the room empty, she’d frown, a strange empty feeling in her chest; just different enough from her usual emptiness that it would make her skin crawl, her pain addled mind wanting nothing except Root.

Unfortunately, it didn’t appear as though that were going to be happening anytime soon.

***

Joss cocked her head at her sister, a small frown taking over her features.

Root had been unusually silent and moody in the last couple of weeks, and it was starting to remind her of the time right after Root lost her hearing.

After the accident, Root had drawn herself inwards, away from her friends and family, a reaction which her family was told was normal when people, especially teenagers.

She’d stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped, well, doing _anything_ ; and looking at her now, staring out the window with legs drawn up to her chest as she laid her cheek against them, Joss couldn’t help but note the similarities between that Root, and this one.

Collapsing on the chair next to her melancholy sister, Joss sighed and knocked Root’s knees out from under her face, causing the other woman to jerk forward unexpectedly.

“Hey, Eeyore, mind telling me what the hell’s been up with you lately?” Root frowned at her sister, absently brushing some stray strands of hair behind her ear.

“Nothing’s been _up_ , Joss.”

Joss raised an eyebrow, her expression on of disbelief. “Then care to explain why you went all mopey on us? Usually you’re all _perky psycho_ , but lately you’ve been more Eeyore meets Batman.”

Root rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t even make any sense. If anyone here is Batman, its _clearly_ John.”

Joss let out a snort at the image of John, dressed all in black leather and spandex, Harold standing behind him, the Alfred to John’s Batman. “Be that as it may, we’ve lived together for nearly eight years, Root. I know when something’s up.”

Root sighed, her eyes closing for a brief moment before she simply shook her head.

“It’s just…” She let out a breath, looking back out the window, “How do you help someone who clearly doesn’t want it?”

Joss frowned. “Root, what the hell are you talking about?”

Root kept her face turned towards the window, not meeting her sister’s eyes. “It’s just a hypothetical.”

“That doesn’t really sound like a hypothetical, Root.” Joss really didn’t know what to make of the situation, moreover, she couldn’t for the life pf her figure out _what_ – or more aptly _who_ – Root could be talking about.

“Well, it is.” She turned to face Joss, “So, what would you do?”

“I’m not sure there would be anything _to_ do, Root.” Joss shrugged. “You can’t force someone to accept help if they don’t want it.”

“But what if they _need_ it?”

“I don’t know, Root.” Joss frowned at the other woman, really quiet confused, “If this is just a hypothetical, why does it matter?”

Root shrugged, facing the window once again.

“It just does.

***

Shaw bit her lip as she knocked on the door, an almost… nervous (although that’s impossible, and Shaw knew that) feeling in her gut as the door opened, revealing Mr. Carter, who looked surprised by her presence.

“Sameen,” She fought the urge to either turn around or punch the door frame – both of which were distinct possibilities at this point, “are you here to see Root?”

She clenched her fist inside her jacket pocket, desperately trying not to roll her eyes at his confused, hesitant tone.

She nodded.

Mr. Carter continued to stand there, as though waiting for some other cue from the girl, who in turn stood there and stared blankly at him.

Finally, he nodded awkwardly. “Right, let me get her. Um,” he turned back around to face her as he heading back into the house, “feel free to come in.”

She didn’t, choosing to remain standing in the hallway as he disappeared deeper into the apartment.

She really wasn’t sure what she was doing there, much like she wasn’t the first time she’d knocked on that same door weeks ago, but when her mother had left for work, leaving Shaw alone in that apartment – with its cracked plaster, broken walls, doors, and bookshelves (all thanks to Shaw, for the most part) she found that she couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the oppressive silence, the mind numbing boredom, and most infuriatingly, the lack of Root.

So, without really thinking about it, she’d grabbed her jacket (Lord only knows why, she was only heading next door, but something about having the soft leather pulled tight against her shoulder as her hands dug into the well-worn pockets were the closest thing to comfort Shaw had ever let herself feel) and headed next door, intent on doing… something.

What though, she hadn’t really thought through.

She just knew that she needed to do _something_.

And when Root appeared in the doorway, and Shaw felt her muscles – which she hadn’t even realized were so tense it _hurt_ – relax, she knew she’d made the right decision.

Biting her lip, uncomfortable under Root’s heavy gaze, she looked away, choosing to focus her attention on the wall at the end of the hallway, rather than the woman in front of her.

And while weeks ago, the silence between the two girls would have been a comfort, now the air crackled with tension as Root continued to stare and Shaw continued to avert her gaze.

“What do you want, Sameen?” Shaw winced as Root spoke, the other woman’s voice heavy with emotions Shaw couldn’t comprehend.

She shrugged, keeping her gaze fixed on the peeling paint, trying to count all the cracks, not saying anything.

She felt Root’s frustration mounting. “Why are you here?”

Again, Shaw offered no response other than a shrug.

Glancing back slightly, just enough to see Root out of the corner or her eye, she saw Root close her eyes briefly, and shaking her head, turn to head back in.

***

Root was frustrated, and so _done_ with Sameen.

She couldn’t figure the other girl out; one minute it seems like everything is fine, and the next Shaw’s yelling at her, or closing off, and frankly, Root was done playing whatever game Sameen was.

So when the only answer to her questions she’d gotten was a shrug, she’d given up, turning around to head back in.

“I’m not… good at this.” Root froze, her back still to the other woman as she spoke for the first time. “Apologizing, I mean.”

Slowly, Root turned back around.

Sameen still wasn’t facing her, but this time her gaze was focused on the floor at her feet, rather than down the hall.

Looking across the hall, the other woman’s head bowed down, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, it occurred to Root for the first time just how _small_ Sameen really was; the girl couldn’t be much taller than 5’3”, if that.  

“Or having… friends.” Root heard her hesitate on the word. She shrugged. “I’m just not… wired for this kind of thing, I guess.”

Root cocked her head to the side, allowing Sameen to continue.

“And I know that I fucked up, but honestly, I don’t know _where_.” She could hear the frustration building in Shaw voice, although, at what Root wasn’t sure, as the other woman looked up for the first time. Was it at her, Root? Or Sameen herself? The world in general?

“And…” Sameen cut herself off, glaring once again down the hallway, “I’ve never done this before-”

Root cut her off, “What? Had friends, or apologized?”

Sameen let out a breath, that in some other world could have been a laugh, “Honestly? Neither. Both. I don’t fucking know.”

Root stepped forward, placing a hand on the other woman’s arm as she ran her aggressively through her hair, “Look, Sameen, I don’t _care_ about any of that; not if you’ve never had friends, or never wanted them, or don’t know how to apologize. What I do care about it you shutting me down and out when you _clearly_ need help.”

Root caught Shaw’s chin in her hand, drawing her gaze up off the floor to meet Root’s own for the first time since Root had stepped into the hallway, Shaw’s hand dropping to Root’s wrist .

“Friendship is about being there for one another.” Root let her other hand drift to Shaw’s shoulder, “And I _want_ to be your friend, Sameen. If you’ll let me.”

There was silence between them for a moment, as the two woman simply stood there, Root nearly pressing Shaw into the wall behind her, hands holding each other close, but unlike before, this silence was more… familiar. More like what it used to be.

After a moment, Sameen blinked, breaking whatever spell had fallen over the two of them. With a huff she shoved Root back a few paces, and Root felt a smile take over her face as she recognized the familiar exasperated expression crossing Sameen’s face.

“Pretty sure you were gonna be my friend whether or not I wanted it.” Sameen rolled her eyes, crossing her arms, and Root just smiled.

“Why, Sameen, I would _never_ force you to do something.” She paused, Sameen giving her a disbelieving look. “Well, nothing you didn’t _want_ to do.”

She let out a laugh as Sameen glared at her, trying in vain to weakly kick her shin as she pushed away from the wall, heading back to her own apartment.

She paused outside the door, looking back at Root who was still standing in the hallway, grinning like a fool.

Root swore she saw a (small) smile on Sameen’s face, but the other woman never admitted it.


	8. Chapter 8

John didn’t think he’d ever been so uncomfortable, and a quick glance at Harold and Joss told him they felt the same way.

John also suspected that Root wasn’t all that happy with the situation either, and it was pretty damn clear that _Sameen_ was less than pleased; she kept glaring at in their direction every chance she got, arms crossed and eyes burning with rage.

It wasn’t like John _wanted_ to be there – he was perfectly happy sitting in the Carter’s apartment, talking to Joss or Harold (and _maybe_ making out with Harold when no one was looking), but he wasn’t exactly given much of a choice.

Since Root was grounded, she wasn’t supposed to go anywhere by herself, including, unfortunately, the next door apartment.

John felt like this was some kind of cosmic punishment for tormenting Root about being a grounded eighteen year old.

He had never really believed in it, but, turns out, karma really was a bitch.

So while he _could_ be lounging around on the couch, watching movies with his friends or wrestling with Joss while Harold and Root talked computers in the background, he was sitting in the Shaw’s living room, feeling like a piece of meat in a wolf enclosure, having a staring contest with the wolf herself.

The only person who _didn’t_ seem uncomfortable, was Root.

“I don’t know.” The woman in question was currently sitting on the couch. Well, sitting might not be the best words for it, John mused, considering she was hanging upside down off the edge, with her knees hooked over the top and hands flat on the ground. “I think Captain America could win.”

Shaw snorted, her eyes leaving John as she turned to the woman next to her. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me. Deathstroke would one hundred percent, murder him. Also, you’re gonna pass out if you keep sitting like that.”

With a roll of her eyes, Root sat up, brushing her hair away from her face as she sat facing the other woman.

“Umm, excuse me? Captain America is super strong, super-fast, _and_ was a soldier.”

Shaw raised her eyebrow. “Yeah, so is Deathstroke. Plus, he’s practically immortal since he heals so fast.” She shrugged, “Just admit it, DC’s better.”

Of all the things John thought he would see before he died, Sameen Shaw arguing about comic books, was _not_ one of them.

“Sure, whatever you say, _Sam_.”

“Are you _looking_ to get punched?”

Harold shifted uncomfortably – the man never really was very fond of violence, and John had to admit, if Sameen’s tone was anything to go by, there would be some soon.

Clearing his throat, John captured the attention of the two woman, who both looked at him, Root with curiosity and amusement, and Sameen with her glare in full force.

“You ladies care to have a discussion we can participate in?” Root cocked her head to the side, while Sameen just rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t invite you here, don’t expect me to make you comfortable.” Sameen’s voice was cold, with a hint of snark as she scowled at him.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Harold wince slightly at her tone – no doubt at least somewhat offended by her brutish manner – while Joss simple raised an eyebrow, clearly shocked by the other woman’s hostility.

_I guess what they say about southern hospitality is true._

Root seemed to be the only person unaffected by Sameen’s (nonexistent) manners. “Well, what do _you_ want to talk about?”

“I don’t know, anything but superheroes.”

Root laughed, “Is this because Joss and I called you and Harold Batman and Alfred the other night?”

Sameen let out a snort of laughter. “Please, as if _he_ could be Bruce Wayne.”

Root raised an eyebrow at her. “Alright, so John’s not Batman, who is?”

“Me.” She raised an eyebrow right back at Root, clearly challenging Root to comment. The other woman just tilted her head, a thoughtful smirk in place.

“If you’re Batman, does that make me Catwoman?”

John was rather surprised when, instead of punching Root – or strangling her, or pretty much doing anything violent – Sameen simply rolled her eyes, stood up and headed into the kitchen, muttering something about Marvel idiots under her breath.

***

Root watched as Sameen walked into the kitchen, and with a quick smile at her friends, stood up and followed the other girl.

Once in the kitchen, she paused, taking the time to watch as Sameen struggled to reach a glass, her face tight wit concentration as she pressed up on her toes.

With a smile, Root stepped up behind her, purposefully pressing herself against Sameen’s back, feeling her body freeze with the contact, as, with a hum, she reached up and plucked the glass from the shelf.

“Must you do that?” Sameen growled as she lowered her hand, bracing it against the counter instead.

“It’s fun.” She grinned, pressing herself more fully against Sameen, truly trapping the other woman.

With a growl, Sameen shoved herself backwards, inadvertently pressing herself even _more_ against Root, but succeeding in her goal to get Root off of her.

It had been a few days since the two girls had made up, and Root couldn’t hide the feeling of relief that filled her body when she pulled out her phone, or knocked on Sameen’s door, knowing that the other woman wouldn’t hesitate to answer her calls and let her in.

They still hadn’t talked about that night, not really, although Root was trying to find the best way to approach it, and with her friends and family distracted in the other room (no doubt talking about how uncomfortable they were, or how weird Sameen was; despite Root’s own feelings towards the girl, her family’s opinions haven’t changed all that much) wasn’t sure when that would be.

She watched as Sameen filled the glass with water, and Root frowned as she winced slightly, her side bumping against the corner of the counter.

“How’s the uh…” Root gestured to Sameen’s side as the other woman turned around.

She shrugged. “Better than it was.”

Before Sameen could protest, Root stepped forward and, grabbing the hem of her shirt, pulled it up enough to examine Sameen’s side.

“Hey,” she knocked Root’s hand off, shooting her a glare. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your side,” Root responded calmly as she once again grabbed her shirt.

Sameen once again pulled away. “Your family is _literally_ in the other room.”

Root shrugged, grinning at Sameen, “So if they walk in they’ll just assume that I’m trying to take your shirt off.”

Sameen glared. “Yeah, that’s my _problem_.”

“Are you saying you _don’t_ want me to take your shirt off?” Root raised an eyebrow suggestively, as Sameen glared right back, not at all phased by Root’s comment.

“Like I said,” She slapped Root’s hand away as she made for the hem of Sameen’s shirt yet again, “my side is healing just fine; it’s just a few light bruises now.”

“Promise?” Root dropped her hand, knowing that she wouldn’t be seeing Sameen shirtless anytime soon.

 _Pity_.

Sameen rolled her eyes, but Root simply stared at her, arms crossed until she let out a sigh.  “Fine, yes, I _promise_ , my side is just fine.”

Root nodded, and the kitchen filled with companionable silence.

If she tilted her head just right, Root could hear John and Harold arguing about something in the living room while Joss occasionally cut in.

“Are we going to talk about that night?” Sameen looked up at Root; she’d been staring out the window, while Root stared at her.

“What is there left to talk about?” Root fixed her with a look.

“You know _exactly_ what there’s left to talk about.”

The other woman fidgeted uncomfortably, her fingers tightening on her glass as she looked back out the window. She opened her mouth slightly, before closing it again, shutting her eyes and dragging a hand through her hair with a frustrated sigh.

“I just… I got in a fight, okay?” Root nodded; it didn’t take a genius to put that one together.

“With whom?”

“Just some guys.” Root frowned at her words.

“Some guy _s_?” Root emphasized the s. “How many?”

She shrugged again, “Three, maybe?”

Root stared at her. “You got into a fight with _three_ guys?” Sameen nodded. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Sameen glared at Root, “I wasn’t, okay?”

“Clearly.” Root couldn’t help but feel a little sick at this revelation. “Do you have any idea how badly that could have gone for you?” because she certainly did, the possibilities burning themselves into Root’s mind in vivid detail.

“Yeah, I know.” Sameen’s voice dropped slightly, and Root got the feeling that she really did.

“ _Why_?” That was really all Root wanted to know – why Sameen would put herself in that sort of position, especially if she knew the risks.

Sameen shrugged again, her face becoming neutral as she stared at the glass still clenched in her hand. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know_?”

“No, I don’t.” Sameen’s jaw tightened, though her eyes remained blank. “I told you before, I don’t know _why_ I do some things, I just… get mad and do them.”

“Like destroy your room.”

Sameen nodded. “Like destroy my room.”

Root leaned back against the counter behind her, facing Sameen. “How often do you… just do things?” She wasn’t trying to make fun of Sameen, or try and fix her, she just wanted to know.

“I don’t do things like destroy my room or get into fights with strangers often, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Sameen placed her empty glass on the counter, crossing her arms and mirroring Root’s pose, except where Root was looking at Sameen, Sameen was looking towards the floor. “Usually it’s just little things, like breaking a glass, or punching a wall, or saying something I know I shouldn’t.”

“How long has this happened?”

Sameen shrugged. “Been this way as long as I can remember. Really only noticed I was different after my dad died though.”

Root cocked her head to the side, vaguely curious, but not wanting to push. “What happened?”

“We were driving home from a baseball game, tire blew, car flipped. He died on impact.” She said it so casually that Root would almost have thought they were talking about the weather. “I was fine, just a couple of cuts and bruises. Anyway, the firemen came, cut me out of the car. Told me my dad was dead.”

“What did you do?”

“Said I was hungry.” Root blinked. She wasn’t expecting that.

“I didn’t cry, didn’t feel… sad, I guess. After that, my mom put me into therapy; been doing that for about seven years now. Apparently, I have something called Axis II Personality Disorder.”

Root frowned, “What does that mean?”

“Means I don’t feel thinks like normal people; don’t really have feelings, actually.” She paused, her head tilting in such a way that reminded Root of a dog, or maybe a wolf. “Except anger. I feel that.”

Root nodded, the room falling silent as she watched Sameen, absorbing everything she’d learned.

Root prided herself on being able to read people, and at first, Sameen Shaw had been a mystery, an enigma, but now, after spending time with her, Root was starting to figure her out.

Usually, Root would read facial expressions to learn what someone was feeling, but Shaw didn’t really have facial expressions other than bored, angry, or neutral, but everyone had a tell, and Root had long since figured out what Sameen’s was.

Her eyes.

When Sameen was angry, or frustrated, unsafe, or comfortable, she would stare at you or glare at you or roll her eyes.

But when she wasn’t, when she felt insecure, or uncomfortable, her eyes tended to drop down, towards the floor. And really, Root had only ever seen her act insecure or uncomfortable around Root herself.

So watching Sameen now, her eyes dropped down, muscles tense as she waited for the other woman to speak, Root figured out that Sameen Shaw was, for all intents and purposes, nervous.

Nervous that Root would leave, walk away, call her a freak, or god knows what else.

“Well, I can think of something else you can feel.” Sameen’s eyes darted up at Root’s voice, playful and light, with perhaps a hint of seduction – after all, it wouldn’t be Root without it. Walking forward, she pressed herself into Sameen’s space, the other woman leaning backwards a far as the counter would let her with a scowl. Root leaned in, pressing her mouth almost against Sameen’s ear as she spoke, “Me.”

And if John and the others heard Sameen shoving Root away from her, or the laugh from Root that followed, they never mentioned it.

***

Don quietly opened his apartment door, not wanting to wake his kids as he and Courtney arrived home from their dinner.

He wasn’t really sure _what_  he had been expected when he arrived back – the kids had been left home to fend for themselves, and Don knew that, before Root had been grounded, she would have disappeared into the other apartment, but since she couldn’t do that on her own anymore (and he seriously doubted that after the last time, the other kids would be eager to spend more time than absolutely necessary with the other woman) he had thought that maybe Root would elect to spend time without her.

What he didn’t expect was Sameen to be at _his_ apartment, considering that even after her and Root had started hanging out together, she’d never set foot in it since that first night.

But there she was, asleep in the living room with Root, the light from the television illuminating their sleeping forms.

No, not _with_ Root.

He stepped closer; the two girls were practically entangled with each other, Root lying on her back, with Sameen pressed between Root and the back of the couch, legs tangled together while one of Sameen’s hands was wrapped in Root’s shirt.

He blinked, turning back to see his wife standing behind him with an equally confused and surprised expression.

Don had assumed a lot about Sameen, but never in a million years would he have guessed she was a _cuddler._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The eventual smut is here, so I guess that means it's no longer eventual?

“So, then Bear decided that he wanted to play too, so he jumped over the fence, tackled John, and ended up knocking him into the pool.” Root watched as Sameen let out a laugh, dropping her head against the wall behind her.

The two women were sitting on the roof of the apartment building, something Root had been unsure about - partially because it was, you know, the roof, and partially because she was still technically grounded, and wasn’t supposed to be anywhere by herself - but after a little persuading, Sameen had managed to drag her there, saying that what the adults don’t know couldn’t hurt them (the Carters, along with Mrs. Shaw, had all gone out for the night, with Root choosing to stay home and keep Sameen company, since there was no way in hell the other girl was going. Root’s parents had allowed it under the condition that the two girls remain together). They’d been up there for nearly two hours, not really doing much of anything at all.

After a while, Root started regaling Sameen with stories of the kinds of trouble that she and her friends would get into back in Texas, Sameen not contributing, but seemingly content to simply listen.

“I wish I had a dog.” Root raised an eyebrow at the other girl, leaning back slightly and contemplating her companion.

“I could see that.” Sameen looked over at her.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” Root reached over, absentmindedly tucking some of the hair escaping from her ponytail behind her ear, “I could see you with a dog. Something big…” She tilted her head playfully as she examined Sameen, “a mastiff maybe? Or a Shepherd.” Root nodded. “Yeah, I could see you with a shepherd.”

Shaw shook her head, a small – _very_ small – smile gracing her features as she looked back towards the sunset.

“You don’t smile much.” Shaw shrugged, the smile disappearing.

“Guess I don’t.” Root rolled her head toward Shaw, who in turn rolled her head towards Root.

“Why not?”

Another shrug. “I just… don’t. I never have.” She looked back towards the sky, “It’s one of the reasons people don’t seem to like me very much.”

Root frowned, her gaze never leaving Sameen’s face as the two fell into silence.

She knew that people didn’t like Sameen – hell, her own family, with the exception of perhaps her dad, didn’t like Sameen – but Root couldn’t for the life of her figure out _why_.

Sure, Sameen was sometimes rude and she maybe had some impulse control problems and she almost never smiled, but she was also so much more.

She was kind and funny and a surprisingly good listener. Sure she didn’t smile often or laugh, but all that meant was when she did, it was that much more special. Special because it was _Sameen_ , and special because it was Root that got her to do it.

Root reached out, brushing some more strands of hair from Shaw’s face, before catching her chin lightly and gently turning Sameen’s face towards her own.

For a moment, Root simply stared into Sameen’s eyes, getting drunk from the silence between them. Her hand was still resting on Sameen’s jaw, and she let it trail over the contours of the other woman’s face; drawing a line from her jaw to her temple and back down, her fingers running over her cheek as her thumb _just_ brushed the corner of her mouth, before traveling down the side of her neck, coming to a halt with her palm pressed gently over Sameen’s pulse, her thumb slowly caressing her jaw again.

Throughout all of this, the other woman remained still, hardly seeming to breath, the only sign that she wasn’t a statue was the pounding beneath Root’s palm, and the slight hitch in her breath as Root leaned closer, knowing what she wanted, and giving Sameen all the time in the world to pull away.

She didn’t.

When they were less than an inch apart, and Root could feel Sameen’s breath just ghosting over her lips, she stopped, her eyes flickering up to meet Sameen’s.

In the steadily decreasing light, her eyes looked like pools of obsidian, catching the remaining light from the air between them and refracting it, distorting it until Root couldn’t tell what was light, and what was a reflection of her own eyes.

When she spoke, it was no louder than a whisper, than a breath, but Root knew that Sameen would hear it regardless.

“To me, it’s one of the reasons  you’re so beautiful.”

***

As Root leaned closer, Shaw found she couldn’t move; every muscle in her body locking into place as the other woman’s fingers trailed down her face and neck. She could feel the heat from Root’s body as she got closer, the heat from her hands, her breath; it burned, burned so hot that Shaw was surprised when her skin didn’t catch fire .

And when Root spoke, her lips only a hairs breath away from Shaw’s own, her voice _so_ quiet that Shaw more felt rather than heard the words, she thought the whole world was going to burn.

Root’s eyes were so full of raw emotion, the strength of which Shaw couldn’t even _dream_ of comprehending, so full of admiration, and pride, and something, something that Shaw hadn’t seen in a long time, something she’d last seen in a car mirror, right before her whole world spun and spun and fell and crashed.

And Shaw felt as though the world was spinning again, spinning and spinning and falling deeper and deeper in the light brown, light flecked eyes an inch away from her own.

But when she felt lips touch her own, when she felt a hand drift from her arm – where she hadn’t even realized it had been – and up onto the back of her neck as Root pulled her closer and closer, she felt the world stop.

Stop spinning, stop falling.

Just, stop.

Then she felt Root pull back, her breath coming fast and warm against Shaw’s lips, and suddenly, she knew she didn’t want to fall anymore.

Reaching out, she gripped Root’s leather jacket, and pulled her in, their lips slotting together with a violent force as Root let out a gasp (or maybe it was a laugh; Shaw couldn’t tell, her whole being drunk on Root, on her smell, on her taste).

Shaw’s hands found their way underneath Root’s jacket, pressing between the soft leather and even softer cotton of her t-shirt, and she could feel the burning heat blazing through her palms, and at this point she didn’t know if it was her own fire or Root’s.

All that mattered was _Root_.

Suddenly, Shaw felt a hand in her hair, pulling her head back none too gently at the same moment that she felt nails rake down her stomach and lips and teeth found their way to her pulse.

Shaw arched against Root, her eyes shooting open and head falling back even more willingly as she felt Root smile against her throat, Root’s hand shifting around to her back, pulling her closer, until Shaw was straddling Root’s knees.

Shaw couldn’t help that slight moan that escaped her lips as Root’s teeth dug into her pulse, biting just hard enough to send a jolt of pain through her body, before pressing gentle, light kisses to the same spot.

Shaw simply held onto Root’s shoulders, trying to take in every sensation (Root’s teeth digging at her throat, her lips gently sliding across Shaw’s own, her hands, one buried deep in her hair keeping her head back, the other finding it way underneath the back of her shirt, her hips pressing directly against Shaw’s own, her body shifting in tandem with every move Shaw made) unable to fight back, unsure, for the first time in her life, if she _wanted_ to fight.

Root pulled back, her lips leaving Shaw’s throat and making their way to her ear.

“This needs to go.” Shaw couldn’t help the tremor that ran through her body at the sound of Root’s voice; thick and heady and octaves lower than usual,  the light playful tone – which usually did nothing but annoy Shaw to the point of violence – causing her breath to hitch and her hips to jerk forward against Root’s pelvis.

She didn’t trust her voice enough to speak, unsure if she could even force words out, unsure if she even knew what speaking _was_ anymore, so instead she just nodded, moving her arms enough to allow Root to pull her jacket off, hands toying with the hem of Shaw’s shirt.

“And this.”

Once Root had divested her of her jacket and shirt, Shaw placed her hands back on Root’s shoulder, only to have them pulled off.

Keeping hold of her wrists in one hand, Root placed the other against Shaw’s sternum, gently pushing backwards until Shaw was lying on her back, hands trapped above her head and feet flat on the surface of the roof, with Root practically lying on top of her, the hand on her sternum the only thing keeping her from collapsing completely.

Root’s eyes met Shaw’s, and she felt herself swallow; where Root’s eyes were typically light brown, they were now black as Shaw’s own, a predatory look gazing down at her.

Leaning down so that her teeth just barely grazed Shaw’s ear, she whispered, “Don’t move them.”

Shaw didn’t have to ask what _they_ were, Root’s intention becoming very clear as she released Shaw’s wrists, leaving them unhindered.

Shaw could have easily moved them, buried them in Root’s hair, in her skin.

She didn’t.

Root smiled down at her, hands drifting down her sides, her eyes still shining black.

“Good girl.” Shaw’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of Root’s breath against her ear, her teeth _just_ barely scraping, at her hands running _oh_ so lightly against Shaw’s ribs; up to the bottom of her bra, down to the waistband of her jeans, fingers dipping _just_ underneath, before moving back.

Again and again, Root’s hands travelled the same path, while her lips once again moved down Shaw’s throat, but this time they didn’t stop at her pulse, but kept moving down.

Root’s hands crept around Shaw’s back, between her burning flesh and the cold ground, and Shaw – without moving her hands – arched her back enough for Root to unhook the clasp of her bra.

Shaw felt another shiver run through her body as the cold summer air caressed her now bare skin, which was quickly replaced by Root’s hands, which, despite just barely touching her skin, caused lines of red hot heat to burn across her chest.

Then her fingers were replaced by her tongue, and Shaw’s head dropped back onto the concrete floor.

Her entire body felt as though it were vibrating, every little shift of Root’s tongue and teeth and lips sending jolts of pain and pleasure all the way to the tips of her fingers and back.

By the time Root sat up, Shaw was barely coherent, her breath ragged and quick, eyes open but unseeing, her hands still held prone above her head, fingers digging lightly into the concrete.

Root’s mouth moved lower, kissing the ridges of Shaw’s abs, nails raking _just_ hard enough to hurt.

Her teeth quickly followed as she sucked bruises onto the edges of Shaw’s hips and abs.

Then Root’s mouth disappeared leaving Shaw with just the sensation of Root’s hands gripping her hips over her jeans.

Opening her eyes, Shaw lifted her head, peering down, and Shaw felt almost every muscle in her abdomen tense when she caught sight of Root lying between her legs, black eyes gazing heatedly back at Shaw, annoying smirk in place – just before Root leaned forward, placing an opened mouthed kiss to Shaw’s center over her jeans.

Shaw wasn’t sure if it was the heat from Root mouth, or the low moan which accompanied it that caused her to drop her head back, eyes slamming shut at the sensation.

“God, Sameen.” Shaw could _feel_ Root’s mouth moving against her, her words low and heady, and for the first time, Shaw thought maybe she heard a _sliver_ of the desire she felt for Root in the other woman’s voice.

After placing a few more kisses to the apex of Shaw’s jeans, Root’s lips trailed back up Shaw’s chest, and again towards her ear, at the same time, her hands dropped to her hips, catching the edges of Shaw’s jeans, fingers dipping just below.

“What do you think, Sameen? Time for these to go?” Shaw didn’t have to respond, her eyes closing as she swallowed heavily at the sound of Root’s voice, her hips thrusting into Root’s. Root chuckled into her ear, which only served in making it that much harder for Shaw to breathe. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

With that, she pulled away again, her lips lightly trailing over the (undoubtedly) bruise riddled skin of Shaw’s throat and chest, her fingers deftly undoing the button of Shaw’s jeans, before slowly drawing the zipper down.

It didn’t take long for Root to remove her jeans entirely, leaving her in only the black boy shorts she’d worn underneath.

She wasn’t sure if the shudder that ran through her body was from the night air, or the knowledge that  Root’s mouth was only inches away from where Shaw needed it most.

“Sameen.” Shaw blinked her eyes open again, her vision slightly blurry as she once again tilted her head forward, fighting every instinct that told her to let go, to close her eyes, to _surrender_. “Look at me.”

With effort, Shaw forced herself to lift her head high enough to meet Root’s eyes.

The other woman had her fingers hooked around the edges of Shaw’s boy shorts, and Shaw fought to keep her eyes open as the other woman placed a kiss right above her waist band.

Slowly, far too slowly, Root pulled the underwear down, all the while maintaining eye contact with Shaw, who was doing her damnedest not to look away.

Finally, they were gone, and Shaw was completely bare.

Shaw could feel all the muscles in her body tightening as she watched Root kiss her way up Shaw’s legs; all harsh teeth and soothing tongue.

With a smirk, Root bypassed Shaw’s center, and instead she kissed her way back up the other woman’s body, until she was practically lying on top of Shaw, one leg thrown over Shaw’s, one hand caressing the side of her face with the other danced across her stomach.

Leaning down, Root pressed a kiss to Shaw’s lips, whose own eagerly met it.

All too soon, Root pulled back, her eyes tender and bright as they met Shaw’s own.

“To me, Sameen, you’re the closest thing to perfect.”

She kissed her then, and when Shaw let out a gasp as she felt Root push inside, Root smirked against her lips, before her own worked their way down to Shaw’s throat.

Shaw’s back arched against Root, her hands scrambling to find _anything_ to hold onto as Root worked her way inside Shaw, first with two fingers, then with three, her teeth and lips working at Shaw’s pulse point in time with her thrusts.

She felt as though she couldn’t get enough air, anything she managed to suck in leaving seconds later in the form of gasps and moans that echoed embarrassingly loudly in the still night. 

She felt Root’s free hand reach up, and fall between Shaw’s own, giving her something to ground herself with as she felt the world spinning faster than ever before; spinning and swirling and building to a free fall, until Shaw wasn’t sure if it was the world that was moving, or her, Root the only thing keeping her from letting go of whatever tenuous thread kept her from falling.

She felt Root’s lips place a gentle kiss beside her ear, a strange juxtaposition to the harsh thrusting as Root pushed inside with more force, three fingers turning into four, the heel of her palm hitting just the right spot with every thrust, as Shaw tightened her grip on Root’s hand, breath coming faster with every movement of Root inside of her.

Shaw wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on, wasn’t sure how much longer it would be until she lost her grip, and fell.

Root’s lips just barely grazed the shell of Shaw’s ear, her whispered words the only thing on Shaw’s mind as she finally surrendered, spinning and tumbling and free falling impossibly far, her body arching against Root’s as her muscles convulsed, trying to draw Root closer and closer and _closer_.

_“I’ll catch you.”_

***

Root shifted uncomfortably, eyes scrunching up as she frowned; her bed was weirdly uncomfortable this morning, and judging from the weight on her chest, it felt as though Joss had rolled onto her in the middle of the night.

Squinting, she was blinded slightly as the sun shone directly into her eyes; looked as though she or Joss forgot to close the blinds before they went to bed.

Raising one hand, she reached up, brushing the hair from her face.

As she moved, she felt the weight on her chest move as well, and she expected it to roll off, as Joss normally does when she realizes she’s lying on Root.

This time however, the weight doesn’t roll off, rather, it moved closer, and Root felt a face press against the side against her neck.

Blinking her eyes open for the first time, she realized she wasn’t staring at the cracked, white plaster ceiling of her dad’s apartments spare bedroom, but rather at the open sky; the white clouds lazily drifting across the blue mat, and the sun beating down warmly against her exposed skin.

Lifting her head, she glanced down, a smile breaking out across her face at the sight that greeted her.

Sameen Shaw was pressed against Root’s left side, one leg thrown over Root’s, a hand fisted in the material of Root’s shirt, her face nestled against Root’s neck and collar bone.

At some point before they fell asleep, Sameen had managed to pull on her t-shirt and jeans, and Root had never really gotten _un_ dressed, so she was similarly dressed.

Smiling, Root reached over with her right hand, gently running her fingers through Sameen’s hair as she pressed a kiss to the top of the other girl’s head.

Groaning, Sameen’s eyes blinked open, a frown appearing on her face as the sun momentarily blinded her, causing her to tilt her face farther against Root’s neck.

“What the hell time is it?” Root shivered a little as she felt Sameen’s lips move against her throat.

Reaching over to where the other girl’s phone lay, she checked the time. “9:32.”

Sameen groaned again, rolling over and off of Root, who pouted at the loss.

The other girl lay on her back, one hand thrown over her eyes, and Root let out a laugh when she caught sight of the damage done last night.

Sameen peeled her hand from her face, glaring at the laughing girl. With a growl, she rolled back over, one hand clamping over Root’s mouth to silence her.

“It’s too early for whatever it is that you’re finding so funny.”

Still laughing, Root pulled Sameen’s hand away.

“I was just thinking.” Sameen stared at her suspiciously.

“Thinking about what?”

“If you’re mother is going to believe we spent last night throwing stones at each other, and that I just have _really_ good aim.”

The suspicion on Sameen’s face gave way to confusion at she stared blankly at Root.

“What the hell are you talking about, Root?” Still laughing, she picked up Sameen’s phone, and, turning on the camera, she flipped the phone around so that Sameen could see.

Root couldn’t hold back a laugh as the other girl let out a string of curse words, the hand not bracing herself up reaching up and brushing her hair out of the way, giving her even better view of the bruises coating the side of her throat and collar bone.

“What the hell, Root.” To most people, Sameen’s low growl would probably be threatening, but Root had spent enough time around her to notice the lack of true anger in it. “The hell am I supposed to do about this?”

“You could wear a turtle neck,” Root supplied, oh so unhelpfully as she continued to stare at the marks, a strange feeling of pride swelling in her chest.

Sameen leveled a blank look at her. “Right, because a turtle neck in _July_ won’t cause _any_ suspicion.”

Root shrugged. “We could always go with the stoning theory.”

Sameen stared at her for a moment in silence, and Root honestly wondered if the other woman was considering her proposal.

Ultimately, she decided just to knock Root’s supporting arm out from under her, sending the other woman sprawling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. Comments and Kudos are love.


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